we made it to Morocco!!! which is really exciting. especially because Royal Air Maroc checked our passports no less then 5 times so if we didn't have our documents in order we'd have been screwed. Morocco is amazing, more like Europe then Africa, which is crazy. but there's still undertones of Africa here and some other impressions that are purely Moroccan. this place has a lot more cultural identity than any other country i've visited these past few years.

there's just one thing.

it's WINTER here. really really winter. last night it was 1 degree celsius-just a hair above freezing. i am so cold i don't even know what to do. i even bought more clothes, i'd forgotten what layering feels like. next on my list is shoes, chacos and socks just don't cut it. and the thing about Morocco is they don't really embrace the concept of heating. when we first arrived i thought it was strange the way everyone wanders around bundled up as if they were on a trek across Siberia, but i quickly realized this is because this is the only choice. not a single hotel, cafe, shop, or any building i've been in has had any sort of heat. not even fireplaces. it's crazy. you have to bundle up all the time because you can't quite pop indoors and warm up. but its good for me, sort of like going cold turkey-get it?-on feeling hot. plus i probably needed to beef up my winter wardrobe. but that didn't stop me, last night, bundled under 2 of the thickest blankets i've ever seen, from asking myself...was leaving the tropics a mistake?

no. and yes.

but anyways Morocco is one of the most beautiful places i can even imagine; naturally and architecturally. people speak french and arabic which makes it feel soo exotic but there's still enough english for us to manage. the food is amazing, they really know how to use spices here. you can buy strawberries from street vendors and pastries on every corner. they have huge stray cats the locals feed to entice them to kill more rats. i just wanna entice one to take a nap in my bed so it'll be nice and warm when i crawl in it. Morocco is definitely a cut above Ghana, the ideal next step up the development ladder. i have taken a few pictures but its difficult to do it justice. needless to say i will still post them later anyways. until then, i am yours in gloves, a hat and a scarf. c'est bon? c'est bon.

first things first....

oh nothing, just me spectating an elephant as it eats the landscaping at Mole Hotel. the hotel staff was unsurprised by this little breakfast interruption, but the rest of us loved it. they really do kinda see them as pests.

backing up a bit, here are some castle pictures from the Elmina Castle, a few k outside of Cape Coast. the castle was originally built by the Portuguese and eventually taken by the Dutch, then the British when Ghana was the stronghold during the slave trade. almost all the slaves that left west Africa spent time in this castle or the one at Cape Coast. we saw the dungeons all the way up to the governors quarters, but i'm only gonna put a few pics here. this is the view of the fort that was used as a lookout, on the top of that hill. you also can get a pretty good glimpse of Elmina itself, a "small" village (huge!) that is a pleasant place to spend an afternoon.

another view. the castle hugs the coast but still had a moat.

the view from where the governor stood to address his troops. to the left are the dungeons, to the right are the rooms where they imprisoned unruly soldiers, or the tomb where they threw rebellious slaves. the building in the middle, oddly enough, was the chapel.

another view, from the other side of the courtyard.

ok. now to the good stuff...Mole National Park. it was originally established as a hunting ground in the 1950's, when the government was trying to eliminate the tsetse fly. the theory was that the larger animals were its' breeding grounds, so they should all be killed. after 20 years, it was decided sleeping sickness (caused by the tsetse fly) was no longer a threat and turned into a game reserve. in 1974 it was formally established as a protected area (and they doubled it in size!) this picture is of a "bachelor pack" of male kops, a kind of gazelle. once the young male kop is about 7-9 months old, they are driven out of whichever elder male's territory they were born on. they then roam in these large bachelor groups until they are old enough and strong enough to fight a lone male for his territory. the female kops can come and go as they please, meaning the males are really just fighting for land, not right to the females.

here is an elephant crossing the road, causing quite a ruckus. this is a male elephant, the only kind we saw, as the females are all hiding deep in the forest with their babies.

i'm a little obsessed with warthogs now. they like to walk around on their knees. here is a baby demonstrating. they are fairly dangerous, according to the staff at Mole a full-grown warthog can defeat a baboon anytime. this one was too little to do much damage yet. just don't make it's mama mad.

when not scaring baboons, the warthogs enjoy the scraps of the staff canteen. they treat them almost like dogs, though they are careful not to touch them and to keep the baby away. but they are not unpleasant to have around. and they will eat anything. we even saw one eat a plastic bag.

the elephant down by the watering hole. just headed to pack some mud on his skin. he doesn't worry about the crocs in that pool, they're all scared of him.

if you can ignore the glowing eyes (my bad) you can see the pattern of this bush back perfectly. they were one of the most beautiful animals we saw. and this one got so close to us!

the view from Mole's observation platform. spectacular.

this is the first elephant we saw, about 20 minutes into our morning walk. he was wallowing in the water when we found him, which is why he has that delightful painted look about him. cute?

so as you can imagine, we are 2 very happy campers right now. and tomorrow, we're headed to the beach to take a vacation from our vacation. all this trip people have been telling us to go to Busua, so it seems like the appropriate place to end our Ghana adventure. enjoy the pictures and i'll post again soon!

Hello again. Can you believe these pictures took less than 5 mins to load? ohhh yeah. we are in Kumasi, the second-largest city in Ghana. it is huge, less sprawled than Accra but definitely feels just as Western. at night, when all the vendors have left it looks exactly like a medium-sized American city. crazy. without further ado, here are a few highlight pictures from Ghana so far...

the crayfish coffin. probably my favorite one.

a pineapple and an ice cream coffin. these compliment each other nicely on so many levels.

this is the view of the swinging bridge we walked on for our canopy rainforest tour, in Kakum national park. it was about 30 m from the ground, which didn't seem like much until we got up there. it was pretty cool though. we saw some gorgeous trees, a lot of butterflies, and not much else. my theory is it creaks to much for the monkeys and birds to come any closer. though our guide DID have a bird call as his cellphone ringtone. how appropriate.

a lagoon on the outskirts of Cape Coast. we went on an excellent tour of 2 castles, but we used S St J's camera there so i don't have those pics yet. there were cannonballs, dungeons, a dedication from Barack and Michelle Obama, a "door of no return" leading to the sea, and a bat colony. just so you can visualize.

this panel was in the walls of a building at the national cultural center here in Kumasi, where you're not supposed to take any pictures but i snapped this one anyways. i think it's 1) awesome looking and 2) a good example of the Ashanti style. we also toured a museum about the Ashanti today which was pretty fascinating (even though it was very small). i learned a lot of fun little tidbits like the Ashanti king's bare feet are never allowed to touch the ground (or he wouldn't be king anymore) so he rests them on elephant tusks while he bathes. also, kingship is inherited through the mother's side, so the king is not succeeded by his son, but his nephew. there is no queen, rather a queen mother, and she is almost as highly regarded as the king. probably the coolest thing we saw there was the Ashanti war drum, which is made out of leopard skin. when they heard their enemies approaching, they would hide in the bushes and play the drum, and it sounds like a leopard. hearing the leopard, the enemy would flee and then the Ashanti would attack amidst the confusion. the drum is played by scraping a stick across the face, and it really does sound like a leopard. pretty cool.

tomorrow we head to the north and Mole national park. we are hoping to see a lot of big game, and are going to try and stay until we see an elephant. think positive thoughts for us and i'll let you know what happens!

hi again. i know, 2 posts in one day...a little excessive. but when you're in a place with internet that's so awesomely fast you can spoil yourself a little, right? i actually had a lot of photos i wanted to upload but, due to my camera battery's being exhausted, i could not. so i'm just going to babble a little bit.

today we went to check out the coffins of Ghana. this may sound like a strange thing to do, but Ghana is actually famous worldwide for their coffins. we saw a picture of one shaped like a shoe (a sneaker, where the laces come off to let the body in) in an old Ghanian newspaper and from then on i knew that was one thing i wanted to see before i left. i didn't imagine i would get to do it so early on. but with a friend headed to the airport at 5 pm, we decided that would be the perfect outing. so we set out to catch a tro-tro (like a gelly in Gambia, local transport, incredibly cheap and, you know, "cultural") to the area of town our guidebook said they would be. and, of course, they weren't. we did, however, all to fittingly pass a funeral procession on the way, where there was an exuberant marching band, dancing children, and a silver gilded coffin with The Last Supper painting carved on the sides. but we found a taxi fairly easily who took us even farther out of Accra to an area called Teshi, where we passed one coffin workshop and were dropped off at another. that was where we met Eric, a really cool guy with a website you should really check out, not in the least because i don't think you'll believe me about how awesome these coffins are until you see some pics.

the coffins come in all shapes and sizes, and all different kinds. Eric's shop had quite a few fish, an eagle, a lion, a coke bottle, a Star (beer) bottle, and a tomato basket overflowing with wooden tomatoes. and that was just the beginning. i am so glad Eric was there to give us some insight on this practice, this art form.

the story Eric told us was about his grandfather, who truly loved his grandmother, and to celebrate her death (and her dreams in life) he made her a coffin shaped like an airplane, because one thing she'd always wanted to do is fly, but never could. apparently, many tribes traditionally bury their chiefs in a coffin shaped like the symbol of their tribe (which is why the fish coffins are so popular), but his grandfather was one of the first to build one for someone who wasn't of paramount importance to anyone but her family. his labor of love bloomed into a business, and eventually his father took up his grandfather's business, and now Eric and his father work together. we must have talked to him for almost an hour, about coffins, families, death, everything. he has been all over the world, working with other artists, teaching at universities, and designing coffins for people. for example, he was asked to go to russia to contribute to their "death and culture" museum and wound up making the curator a coffin in the shape of a vodka bottle.

Eric has a unique perspective on death, being in his line of work. he wants to make coffins that people will truly enjoy, and he showed us some examples. one of the funniest ones to me was a coffin in the shape of a Bible, true to form. i promise i have pictures. part of his perspective also comes from the Ghanaian view, where death is a celebration of life. they don't avoid it like other cultures. there are posters all over the cities, like obituaries, with large pictures of people who have recently passed, and information about them. the coffins are all playful, and usually representative of the person's life. some women even go so far as to be buried in chicken coffins with carved wooden chicks to represent each of their children nestled at their feet. it's absolutely a different take than we have in america. i asked Eric (who could resist) what kind of coffin he would want...and he said he'd already made his. it's in his house, doubling as a tv stand. it's in the shape of a planar, the carpentry tool. not as fantastic as the crayfish coffin we later found, but respectable. the funniest part is that his father (who has been in the business all Eric's life) refuses to make his own coffin, or consider what he wants, and even tries to get Eric to take his planar out of the house. different ideas.

it was amazing. a little off the beaten path, but i can't think of a better way i'd have spent the day. it could be a really helpful part of the mourning process, to send your loved one off in a representation of what they loved the most. it definitely helps those still here remember and celebrate.

www.ghanacoffin.com

tomorrow...off to Cape Coast! update soon.

hi friends. i have only 8 mins left so i'll make this quick. i am safely in ghana after a riveting 3 days in dakar wishing i spoke french and praying it will be easier in morocco (it will. they actually expect tourists there). ghana calls themselves the gold coast but i want to be the first to say they should change their slogan to the jackpot of west africa. this place has everything (i know i said that about dakar, but this time i'm serious)-cars with alarms, cranes, pineapples sold whole on the street the vendor cuts for you, a KFC, amazing red-red (look it up), fried plantains, crazy coffins, tattoo parlors (cuz that's not a risk), art galleries...and we haven't left Accra. tomorrow we're heading for Cape Coast to check out the slave castles (and take a guided tour so i can elaborate for you) and this vegetarian restaurant featuring Moringa, the miracle tree (seriously, look it up). hopefully i will get to post after Cape Coast, internet is supposed to be really good around the southern part of Ghana. If it's as nice as it is at this cafe, i'll even be able to post pictures (i forgot my camera cord). for now, though, i am going to continue to enjoy Accra, and look for additions to my "funny signs" picture collection. some standout reps include the "silence. board meeting in progress" sign posted outside the men's room and the "face the wall chop shop" which serves (what else?" red-red and fufu (look it up). love to you all!

i should have started this alphabet thing a little earlier, i suppose. we're only at L and it's time for me to go! i left my village for good friday, within a day or so exactly 2 years from when i first arrived there. it was hard to leave, as i am sure you can imagine. there were tears, and not all of them were mine. saying goodbye is never easy, and in a situation like this where you don't know when or if you will ever see the person again, it becomes even harder. also, gambians have a different perception of how to say goodbye. they don't like to do it. a full half of my host family left the compound just minutes before i did, wordlessly, so they wouldn't have to see me go. the rest of them could barely look me in the eye. a few cried, and hugged me, but that was far from the norm. i am very glad i learned before that day they were not going to stay put for what i see as a normal goodbye, or i would have been offended. it's a sort of a compliment, it turns out, it means they are so upset they can not face you. otherwise they would stay. but very opposite from the american mindset, which is that goodbye is really important, and you could really offend someone by not saying goodbye to then, as it is a sign you are insignificant in their lives. i don't doubt, in any way, that i was a part of these people's lives.

i know i still am.

and now, i am finishing up the paperwork and the packing, getting ready to leave the Gambia. but don't put up your eyeglasses just yet, dear reader, for my african adventure is not over. from Gambia i will be going to Dakar (but only for 4 days) and then setting out to Ghana(!!!!!!!!!!!!) for 2 and a half weeks. Once Ghana has been good and seen, i'll continue on to Morocco (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), then take the ferry over to Spain (!!!!!!!!!!!!), where I will while away the days in as european of a fashion i can muster, before finally returning home (!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) to my family. so as long as i'm still technically across the Atlantic (and maybe even a few weeks after i'm not) i plan on maintaining this blog. so keep on checking for the same infrequent posting schedule, and see if you'll be first to know whether or not i saw elephants in Mole, or sea turtles in Butre, or learned more Arabic in Fez. I might even post pictures of the dolphins that supposedly frolic in the wake of the ferry to Gibraltar. if you're lucky.

This week's blog post is brought to you by the letter K.

K was a tough choice, mostly because I am completely brain-fried and can't remember anything that starts with the letter K. But never fear, I was struck by inspiration, in the form of a man dressed is grass carrying machetes.

Ah yes, the kankaroung (pronounced kang-ka-ron). Not only a cultural icon, but also the punishment threat to the many children residing in the Gambia, as there is no Santa Claus to pretend to call. Allow me to elaborate.

The kankaroung traditionally comes around during male circumcision ceremonies to keep women and girls away from the places in the bush where the initiates are. However, kankaroungs can also be called upon to ward off evil and generally scare the pants off of everyone. They also can assist the villages in getting rid of demons or lawbreakers. For example, if a man is known to be committing repeated acts of adultery with a powerful man's wife, he can call upon the kankaroung to drive the offender out of the village.

What makes the kankaroung so powerful? It is indeed a deep mystery. On the surface, it is a man dressed in a suit of grass (usually) wielding two probably dull machetes and roaming around moaning. Sometimes he is more elaborately dressed in a suit of leaves, which are rumored to be potent hallunicagins that he chews while he is in character. Sometimes he is tame, and attends ceremonies where he entertains the people by dancing and flying. Each village's kankaroung is usually 3 or more men who take turns donning the suit and walking the streets of the village at night (and sometimes during the day), keeping the evil away, and then waking the women up at the crack of dawn to cook breakfast for the boys being circumcised. They don't do anything quietly.

Kankaroungs are different in different villages. They have been known to beat women and girls who come to close to the initiates with the blunt end of their machetes. But usually they are more for show, creating a general hubris. When people hear the clanking of the machetes and the moaning of the kankaroung, they run into their houses and hide until he has passed by. One PCV's family had their lunch stolen by the kankaroung, as he made his rounds right before lunch time and they were cowering in their houses when he passed by. Children are generally terrified of the kankaroung, and some women as well. Most people laugh it off, but they would not like to meet one alone on the village paths at night. A male friend told me he never fears the kankaroung because he can call it by it's secret name and calm it (a name I shall not repeat here), but the kankaroung is best avoided when it's on the prowl.

And it's a great source of distraction. Often when a small child is crying or acting stubborn, an elder family member will shout "Kankaroung ka na lee!" (literally, the kankaroung is coming!) and sprint into the house. Sometimes the child is so distracted he or she will stop crying to look for him, or just run into the house. Mothers will even tell their children, "if you don't behave i'm going to have the kankaroung come here tonight." So it's similar to Santa, except with machetes instead of coal.

Sinister Santa.

In the past, the kankaroungs were a lot wilder. Now they are mostly symbolic, and much less of a threat to the average Gambian. Rouge kankargoungs still occur, but they are rare, and people always know when one is around, and give you fair warning. It is one aspect of the culture you have to appreciate from afar, but should be appreciated nonetheless.

Ah, developing countries. They are not easy places to live, but they are hotbeds of innovation. I recently read an EXCELLENT book, The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, about a young Malawian boy who is forced to drop out of school because of his extreme poverty and uses his time to invent a windmill that brings his home electricity. He learns the principles by studying old physics textbooks. It's a truly inspiring story, and it got me thinking about how amazing the human mind is when it responds to adverse circumstances.

And then there's jollyphonics.

Jollyphonics were invented to help children learn the more difficult sounds in the english language, with an emphasis on the ones that don't appear in the local languages here. This is done by teaching the children songs that place an emphasis on the sounds (think that song from our preschool days, I like to eat, eat, eat apples and bananas). I think the concept behind jollyphonics is an excellent idea. When paired with explanations, sounding out words, and the other tools that help beginning readers and speakers, jollyphonics would be an immensely helpful tool in teaching youngsters to read and speak. However, once the teachers here learn jollyphonics, they typically (not all, but quite the majority) use only the jollyphonic songs and somehow manage to tune out the chaos around them and not do anything for the rest of the lesson. Another interesting twist is most of the teachers themselves do not pronounce the sounds correctly so the result is tainted from the get go. The kids generally manage to distort the true purpose even further, winding up with a song that is very far from the original.

But they love them. They love to sing the jollyphonics songs. Over. And over. And over again. Here's an example, for the letter "a"

Ants, ants, ants on my arm.

Ants, ants, ants on my arm.

Ants, ants, ants on my arm, they're causing me alarm!

Here is what my younger host siblings say:

Ats, ats, ats on me arm

Ats, ats, ats on marm

Ats, NTS, ats on marm, they cousin me alam!

So you can see they are missing a bit of the point. Now, it's not at all uncommon for people to misremember songs here (head and soldiers, knees and toes?) but when the entire point of the song is to pronounce things correctly and they butcher it, it's a little less amusing. That being said, I am not ready to give up on the idea of jollyphonics. They could be an excellent tool for all students if monitored properly. However, I am more than done with listening to them. Every. Day.

Internet?

We have it here in the Gambia. Sort of. Let me go over your options (assuming you're a PCV)...

1. The Peace Corps Office/Transit house.

your best bet, security-wise. could be the fastest, depending on the day/what everyone around you is down-loading.

pros-you can use pandora because it's on an american satellite.

cons-one location, can be lots of wait, no privacy for skyping (even though it's the best place for it)

2. the kombo (urban) internet cafe (byo laptop).

fancy. sometimes air-conditioned. a place to relax and use wireless from a sort of comfy chair or couch. often are in locations with delicious (yet expensive) food. as with all other internet here, can have really REALLY good days and really dismal ones.

pros-cute passwords (chocolat at the french bakery, etc)

cons-white collar bumsters (see earlier posts) who know how to find you on facebook

3. the kombo internet cafe (sans cafe).

clean(ish). rarely air-conditioned, though sometimes there will be a fan. internet here is reliably slow (open on tab at a time, give yourself 10 mins for attachments minimum, etc). you can gchat on a good day, i've even seen people skype.

pros-conveniently located next to major shopping districts

cons-hackers know it too. isn't it weird that all your contacts suddenly think you're stranded in nigeria and need 13,000 USD?

4. the up-country internet cafe (with dust!)

as dirty as you are from the travel it took to get there. give yourself an hour to wait and see if the current will be on today. if the electricity is there, the internet may also be there. hourly rates are cheaper than kombo ones, but you pay for it in time. it takes awhile for even emails to open, attachments? maybe if you've got nothing else to do that day.

pros-closer to site than kombo

cons-it's possible to wait all day and never get internet, meaning you left site for nothing

5. the stick (for the pcv on the go)

recently, 2 of the major cellphone networks here have come out with portable internet sticks. you plug them into your USB drive, and they connect to the internet via signals from the cellphone towers (aka there's a tiny man inside each stick on an even smaller laptop that invents everything you think the internet would tell you). these are apparently magical for volunteers who have a reliable laptop-charging source around their site and a little extra cash (like the phones here, you buy credit and pay as you go, so you can use it all up on one download). coverage can be sketchy but it beats trekking around, especially if you are working on your own computer and don't wanna travel with it.

pros-you can email your program manager about how hard you're working without getting out of bed

cons-even if you have to patience to load a youtube video, you definitely don't have the dalasis.

6. super-fancy internet phone

yes, they have them here. and i would assume they work exactly like they do in america, except a lot more slowly and a lot of incomplete coverage. all i know is they make people less social and squint a lot.

pros-a phone like that can probably also play akon

cons-crow's feet.

So there you have it. I is for Internet indeed. unless this post fails to load, and then i'll just have to write another one, i is for irate.

ps. my brother gets here today!! it's going to be quite an adventure. i will let y'all know how he likes the gam.

I just upped the number of president's hands i have shaken in my lifetime from zero to one. Woo!

For those of you who do not have their fingers on the pulse of the Peace Corps community, PC is celebrating it's 50th year of existence. Yay for half a century of development! It also happens to be PC's 45th year in the Gambia, which is somewhat of a milestone in and of itself. PC countries worldwide have been holding celebrations all year to commemorate this occasion, and yesterday the Gambia joined in with an epic celebration thrown by His Excellency, the President of the Gambia, Sheikh Professor Alhaji Dr. Yahya Abdul-Azziz Jemus Junkung Jammeh.

And I shook his hand 4 times. Not surprisingly, he has an excellent handshake. I noticed during the event (which, all told, was about a 12 hour affair) that he does a lot of hand-shaking. He shook everyone in the Peace Corps' hand at least twice, and there are around 90 volunteers, not to mention all the staff. When he arrived (in quite a fanfare, marching band and shiny black SUV) he shook all our hands. After every speech-and there were a lot-the speaker would go over to where he was presiding over the ceremony-and shake his hand. He was extremely cordial the whole time, including at the end of the night WHEN HE GAVE US DRESSES! that's right, he gave each and every one of us a dress. it was amazing. I can never wear it for fear of destroying it. the men all received haftans (traditional long shirts worn by Gambian men) or shirts. It was incredibly generous, especially since he'd already given us a free motorcade to the event (travelling in a motorcade is approx 1,000 times greater then a gelly-gelly), lunch, dinner, a place to sleep, and a ride home. He also gave us a touching speech about how he is grateful not only to the volunteers who serve here, but also their parents who allow their children to live so far away for so long. As a public speaker, His Excellency is truly gifted. He really knows how to reach an audience and connect on a personal level.

The night was a celebration of Peace Corps, and the legacy each volunteer leaves. There is a story passing around Peace Corps, one told to pick up volunteers when they are feeling down. The story is about the President of a small, developing country who comes to America for diplomatic purposes. Upon his arrival to the White House, before meeting President Obama, his first request on American soil was to meet the Peace Corps volunteer who taught him English while he was in middle school.

And I think, really, this is one of the most beautiful definitions of a volunteer...the first American a host country national wants to see (even before the beloved Obama). And I hope I have been that American to at least one person during my service. This volunteer had no idea he was teaching a future president, he may have even thought he wasn't reaching his class. He may not even have been particularly close with the boy. But the impact he had on his life was impossible to predict. And that's what makes PC different. You have no idea the impact you have on someone, and sometimes you never know. But sometimes, if you're really lucky, you get a chance to find out.

Camp GAGA: Enduring Environmental Education for a Changing World

The wait is over. The planning, preparation, and anticipation are all a thing of the past. Camp Girls About Global Awareness, widely known as GAGA among the Peace Corps community, has come and gone. Basse (a center of the eastern end of the country) found itself playing host to an exceptional group of girls and teachers representing every region of the Gambia, from urban KMC all the way to the rural URR, and everyone went home richer for the experience.

Many things came as a pleasant surprise: the girls’ willingness to participate during sessions, the teachers’ enthusiasm for the topics we brought forth, the volunteers dedication to the cause, even the bearable climate (Basse was kind to a coastal girl that week). The camp began with an upwelling of support in the form of a visit from some embassy and PC staff (Cindy, Roberto, Suzy, and our own Heather) and this positive momentum continued throughout the week.

The girls were faced with some big new ideas; even the concept of decomposition was foreign to them. Thanks to our fantastic teambuilding coordinator, Abby, the girls learned a song, “Biodegradable,” which tied everything together, complete with some sweet dance moves. They learned the song Monday night and sang it often throughout the week, to give them a break in between sessions or just because. The volunteers had as much fun as the girls, leading them from the front of the bantaba and getting down to the song about garbage. Marta has kindly posted a video of once such performance on the Camp GAGA facebook page.

One of the most exceptional things about the camp was it gave many volunteers a chance to showcase their classroom skills, which became a form of teaching itself. The teachers, who spent the first few days observing, were wowed not only by the phenomenal teaching aids the volunteers prepared for each lesson, but also their very presence in front of a class. Catherine and Julie, who ably handled the teacher curriculum, based it around observations early, and, as the week progressed, expanded it to discussions not only about the content of the sessions (which the teachers could not get enough of) but also how the sessions were taught and how the teachers could apply these skills in their classrooms.

The camp ended with a talent show designed to get the girls thinking about how they were going to take home the lessons they learned that week. A talent show was a foreign concept, so Koko, Alex, Kelsey, Steph, and myself performed an impromptu one while they waited for lunch one day. Later, many of the volunteers performed a drama written by the tireless Erica (our life skills coordinator who never failed to ask the right questions and schedule the right sessions) that was so good I don’t want to spoil it…you’ll just have to see it at the 50th celebration! The girls, encouraged by meetings with the volunteer who accompanied them, put together acts in groups of two are more. The show itself was quite the affair…curtains, a banner, lights, cold drinks, even a DJ, and of course, honorable guest judges Saikou and Haddy. Modou from FAWEGAM (our community partner), Julia (my partner in crime) and myself rounded out the panel. Erin, our emcee and talent show organizer, kept everything running smoothly. The girls did dramas, songs, and poems about the environment and how to preserve it. Even the teachers favored us with a dance. The content of the acts was truly impressive, and the girls’ creativity was unprecedented as well. After the show, the music played and the girls danced the night away, at least until lights out at 10 pm. They had a long week, and plenty to take home with them, including a concrete plan made by each pair of girls and their volunteer for a way to apply the ideas learned at camp in their villages. I look forward to hearing the outcome of their plans to increase environmental awareness at home.

sadly, the post about funerals proved to be a little too prophetic. one unthinkable tragedy later and i'm here, mourning the loss of a good friend, and wishing against all wishes i could be there with his family and friends, as if my presence could make a difference in the cold truth. as if anything could change what happened.

but nothing can. last night, wrestling with the news, i found myself frantically racking my brain, asking myself...when was the last time i saw Paul? what were we doing? how come i fell out of touch with him, slowly, over the years?

and then i realized, all at once, that it didn't matter. that i don't clearly remember the last time i saw Paul because he was one of those friends, the ones that you'll have forever. that we had so many memories, so much of our formative years spent together, that each parting was just a pause until life brought us together again. that when i said goodbye to him that last time, i was in no way aware i was saying anything other then "till next time." because, with a friendship like we shared, the "next time" was implied.

so let me tell you about the Paul i knew.

he was a gawky middle-schooler, a handsome high schooler. in and out of college, he always managed to surround himself with friends. he had a band he toured with, and you could tell he thought that was the coolest thing ever. he was years away from realizing the incredible potential he really had. he was a phone call on Bob Marley's birthday. he was a righty who played the bass lefty. he was friday afternoon frisbee in the park. he was my best friend's boyfriend. he was an on-going game of Connect 4. he was the kid who never took english class seriously, who made you wonder why you took classes seriously at all. he wore shoes so big i could store my phone AND my keys in them. he skateboarded in those shoes (before they were a purse). he had this plaid suit my mother loved. he brought cereal to the fancy christmas dinner every year, without fail. he built fires in the rain and said the smoke didn't sting his eyes. he drove around town without using his brakes, coasting into turns and driving other motorists crazy. physics made him think about the world, about how it all worked. he made me think about teleportation. he climbed trees. he climbed rocks. jumped off cliffs. went off the rope swing. no one could ever say he didn't take chances. he was up for adventures. camping by the river. camping out on golf courses. eating the "s'mores" wyatt made. for late night treks around the jungle that is green hills. hiking to the electric light place, all of us, looking out over the city's nighttime scene. he had a flash-flight, and always wanted to throw it no matter how dewy the grass was. he wasn't afraid to attempt the gallon challenge. whole milk, never skim. he was a good hugger, just as good at goodbyes as he was at hellos. he was an amazing artist, whether the medium was markers, spray paint, or tie-dye. he was a vibrant patch in the colorful quilt our friends made, and nothing will ever change that. nothing can ever change that.

last night, alone in my house, overwhelmed by a deluge of memories, i was slowly overcome by something else, as well. the feeling that he was there, in my room, with me. it hasn't left. he walked the sandy paths of the village with me, enjoyed the wind in his hair as the gelly carried me towards the city, towards a link to the people i need to reach. he beat me to the abandoned computer lab, so i wouldn't feel alone. Paul is with me, even as i write these words. he's with all of us. the feeling that he is here doesn't keep the tears from coming, but it does provide some comfort to know that even though his body is gone, we can each carry a little piece of him with us.

paul cobb, you were, you are, loved.

i'd like to start this post by reassuring everyone that i have not recently suffered a loss.

funerals in the Gambia are different than American funerals, of course. different cultures cope with loss in different ways, and i don't think we ever fully understand how to cope with the loss of a loved one, no matter where we are.

the first major difference is the timing. due to reasons never fully explained to me but i assume they have something to do with the extreme heat/humidity in the rainy season, the funeral is almost always the day someone dies. there are a few cases where it will be the day after the death (if the body is being moved, or people are travelling), but customarily funerals occur the same day. there is another wake 40 days after the death, and a final mourning 70 days following the persons' death. this is the grieving period. after 70 days, a person is no longer viewed as "in mourning" over the loss of a husband, child, parent, etc. the suddenness of the funerals (because death is always unexpected to some degree, even if one's health is declining it's difficult to pinpoint the exact day he/she will expire) is very incongruent with western culture. to another Gambian, there is no question, if you have a funeral, you must go. and this is understandable. loved ones need to be mourned. funerals are a very important part of the grieving process, and it is, of course, a measure of respect for the dead. i would want the same thing for myself, when my time comes. however, it is the tiniest bit irritating when you have travelled for a meeting and it has been cancelled because someone on the committee was called away at the last minute for a funeral. the funeral is both the wild card and the get out of jail free card. you can't plan for it, you never know when it's going to happen, and you can't argue with it. entire workshops have been moved, ceremonies cancelled, lives rearranged at the last possible second.

another difference is the crying. people do cry at funerals in America, but not in the same fashion. the word "keening" describes it perfectly. high-pitched wailing, flailing of limbs, people (mostly women) give themselves over to their grief in a way that almost seems over dramatized. but it does seem to exorcise their pain and give them the strength to carry on, so who am I to judge?

the final difference i will address here is the attire. in america, and many other cultures, black is the norm. but not here. the women make sure to cover their head and shoulders with an elaborate draping of shawls, but otherwise they dress up fancy or not at all. everyone looks clean and respectable, but not at all like they are in mourning. they could be going to a naming ceremony. or a wedding. it's impossible to identify.

i personally try and avoid funerals because no one i have been very close to here has died. i tend to draw a lot of attention just based on my skin color, so out of respect to the families, i avoid them so people can concentrate on mourning and not the white girl. except. one time i did accidentally ride my bike into the middle of one. an elderly neighbor had died, and i knew the funeral was being held that afternoon so i decided to bike my worries away while the general wailing was going on. but. they failed to tell me they were having the funeral in the middle of the dirt path that runs through the village. so i rode right behind the coffin before i realized what i was doing. luckily, i happened to roll up right as they were saying a prayer for the dead so every living soul was pressing their forehead into the dirt, praising Allah. somebody probably saw me make my panicked exit. but, i'm not going to say anything, and, since they were supposed to be praying, neither can they.

E is indeed for Environmental Resource Management, which is my sector here in Peace Corps the Gambia. I think the name is pretty self-explanatory, so we won't get into that now.

but the question remains...how?

and that's a toughie. i like to think that Peace Corps is relying on each volunteer, in their infinite wisdom and unique cultural understanding gained from living in their particular environment, to interpret their policies and act upon them as they see fit. it sounds fantastic, right?

unfortunately, i think the truth is, no one really quite knows. but, for heck of it, we'll go with what I said.

what ARE the environmental resource issues facing the Gambia today? at times, the question seems to be, what aren't? but i will gladly take this opportunity to harp on two of them and leave the rest of it to your imaginations.

Deforestation

you can refer to my earlier post (i believe the title is...i'm not fasting. and i made a quiz!) where i touch on a lot of rather alarming facts about deforestation. it's a huge problem in the Gambia, compounded by a population growing at an unchecked rate, and so far the response to this crisis has been, sadly, inadequate. the problem isn't just getting people to plant trees (though trust me, that can be a problem), it's getting people to fence them so they're not grazed by livestock (tying your animals doesn't happen outside of the rainy season), soil degradation caused by invasive species and over-farming, bushfires happening in the dry season due to people burning their fields, illegal felling of trees for various nefarious purposes, and cutting of trees as a byproduct of other measures (clearing fields, harvesting oysters, etc). there are a lot of things volunteers do to try and combat deforestation; the forestry training another volunteer and i led for the dept of forestry for example (an exercise rather like herding cats...these aspiring foresters were very interested in their cellphones), tree-plantings (largely ceremonial affairs but nonetheless rewarding), education and outreach (Gambia All-School Tree Nursery Competition), and the introduction of alternative income generation/conservation practices (mudstoves that reduce firewood use, biochar, etc). but it's a tricky issue in the Gambia, because people know, deep down, the bush is disappearing, but they also need these trees to live their day-to-day lives. and it's difficult to resist the chance to sell firewood for money (good money, at that) when you don't have any money. so there's a lot of blaming and not a lot of progress, sadly. any volunteer who's worked on this can tell you that, no matter who you saw felling trees, they will tell you those trees were cut by the next village over. or by the Senegalese coming across the border. or...even worse... Nigerians. and that is the worst thing a person could do, how could they cut down these trees the village needs for their lives? and they didn't even replant!

and their indignation seems so genuine. it's quite the performance.

Waste Disposal

and we're talking about all kinds of waste here. solid waste. medical waste. toxic waste (if you count batteries and old cellphones as toxic. which i do). sewage. this problem, also, is compounded by the population boom and the rapid cultural changes the country is facing. up until the introduction of plastic bags (for arguments sake let's say that was 50 years ago) all the trash in the Gambia could be dropped on the ground and, within a matter of months or even days, it would biodegrade. and be gone. so there's entire generations of people out there who have been conditioned to think that dropping your trash on the ground is the proper way to dispose of it. but it's not going anywhere. and this is a huge problem. plastic bags can be found almost anywhere in the Gambia. they are unavoidable. and they're not going anywhere. the same with batteries. the kids use discarded batteries as toys...and these are batteries of an inferior quality. which means they expire more quickly, causing people to use even more. they are also more likely to break open, exposing their acidic insides, a health and environmental issue. and, of course, as the populations grow the pit latrines fill. as the bush disappears, people have less places to dispose of their own bodily wastes. there are entire villages in extremely close proximity with urban areas where not a single soul has a pit latrine, everyone is doing their business in the river. or the woods. it's a truly cringe-worthy thought. what are volunteers doing about these issues? pit latrine projects...check out watercharity.org to donate to various sanitation projects in various pc countries. they are doing village clean ups. they reuse plastic bags as poly-pots to nurse young trees. they sensitize. the girls' camp we're about to undertake (less then a week now!) is going to be a huge sensitization effort. but this is one of the hardest problems to attack because, even after you've collected all this trash...there's really no place for it to go.

there was a point in my service, embittered by a lack of work and general feeling of uselessness, that i thought perhaps ENRM volunteers couldn't do anything in the Gambia, that the problems were too big and the people too apathetic and Peace Corps should consider pulling the program. but since then i have really come around. now i really feel that they should expand it, because these issues, along with others (poaching of endangered species, lack of understanding of wildlife resource management, the abuse of the term eco-friendly to name a few) that now i firmly believe the program should be expanded. but budget cuts hit everyone and they are receiving less volunteers next term. it's sad, but the best i can do is hope these next volunteers have the same revelation that i did, and that instead of being overwhelmed by these seemingly insurmountable problems, be overwhelmed of how they can attack these problems from any angle they choose and still be working for a positive change. because when you look at it that way, it's quite exciting

Behold, the Gambian drama. Imagine, if you will, the drama of a soap opera in a situation plucked from a Worst-Case Scenario handbook with a public service announcement to boot. And there you have it. My very favorite aspect of this many-faceted culture...DRAMA.

Drama is used primarily as a teaching tool, to talk about issues too sensitive to discuss openly. It can be used to start a dialogue as well, to coax people into talking about issues they aren't initially comfortable discussing. For various reasons, it's easier for people to talk about why "Fatou" is putting herself at risk rather than analyze their own lives and behaviors aloud. They're also a great education tool in general...they tend to make messages more memorable. The majority of dramas I've seen are health-related; the dangers of smoking, how AIDS is transmitted, what to do to prevent malaria, even how to recognize the symptoms of tuberculosis. But of course they dabble in other issues, the picture above is from a drama about climate change, there are more then a few about why girl's education is important, and why teenagers should avoid premarital sex.

The real Gambian spin is that they always have the most dramatic consequences imaginable. Now, I have heard people say that Gambians are not much for imagination. This is far from the truth. They might not be ready to embrace the fantasy style we imagine, for example Harry Potter and spells, but sit through any Gambian drama and you will see their brains can jump all over the place and bring out the most far-fetched conclusion you wouldn't even have dreamt of. The majority of Gambian dramas I have seen are performed by children, so even more imagination is required because 45% of the cast will be mumbling and looking at their feet. It takes quite a bit just to catch what's going on. There are rarely costumes, and though a narrator often opens and closes the production, he/she rarely pops in to help the story along. So the actors have the sole responsibility for making you believe.

Let me walk you through the basic plot on a drama about the dangers of HIV-AIDS...

There are 2 girls, perhaps their names are Binta and Kaddy. The dramas often start in a familiar setting, like the schoolyard. Binta, the star, will be talking to Kaddy, her friend, about her dreams. Maybe she wants to be a teacher, or a banker. Kaddy will use this opportunity to plug the correct behaviors, such as studying hard, or abstinence.

Enter Lamin. Lamin is clearly a "bad boy." He will sweet talk Binta, talking about buying her a cellphone and calling her beautiful. Kaddy will look disappointed in Binta. Eventually, against Kaddy's advice, Binta will agree to see Lamin alone.

Some point, offstage, Binta will submit to Lamin's persuasions.

.....Binta is pregnant! But where is Lamin? He has run off and is not answering his mobile. Binta is all alone.

And she has HIV! Kaddy asks her, why didn't you have Lamin get tested? The nearest testing center is ________, and it's free!

And Binta's baby is born with HIV, too! And her family won't let her stay because she had a child out of wedlock!

And now she has to leave her village! And she is all alone, because her friend Kaddy (who finished school and works in the village with her husband) has been forbidden to help her. Now what can Binta and her baby do? They will surely die...

End.

That is just a sample. There are some where the star recovers, especially when it's a more treatable, less scandalously transmitted disease, like TB or malaria. The girl's education dramas often end in pregnancy, or sometimes are variations on a wicked stepmother theme. But what they all have in common is that they never fail to make you feel better about your decisions.

Back to the alpha-blogging!

Today's letter is C.

Circumcision, both male and female, is a traditional cultural practice in the Gambia. Female circumcision, or FGM as it is more commonly called these days, is a highly controversial, deeply sensitive topic for Gambians and non-Gambians alike, and overall something I can not truly be qualified to comment on as an outsider to this cultural. So we won't touch that topic anymore in this post, except to say that I am in no way condoning anything here on that issue. Done.

Male circumcision is more publicly celebrated here. Most volunteers here get the chance to attend a few circumcision ceremonies, the party thrown by a village when the boys come back from the bush, having not only been circumcised, but also initiated into adulthood and taught the finer points of the culture by their elders. The ceremony that I get to attend (women are not allowed in the bush where the boys are being circumcised, they can be there for up to 2 weeks, healing and learning with the elder males bringing them food from the village) is not altogether different from the other ceremonies. There's lots of cooking, lots of food, and lots of dancing.

However.

I have a friend, another volunteer, who lives in a Jola village. Jola are a very different tribe from the Mandinka, the tribe I live with. For example, they do their circumcisions every 25 years. Which means, not just a ceremony when the boys come back, but an epic, epic party. It lasted for 6 days, and I attended for one. In this tiny village in the middle of nowhere, everyone had rented generators, and sound systems, and spent what was easily a year's salary on fuel for those generators, and this whole village did nothing for a week but party. At night every house was lit up, blasting music and people just went from house to house dancing. It was such a stark difference to the usual nighttime scene in that village, where the only thing making noise is the donkeys. And the food! Well. The day I came they gave us 3 lunches. And they were all delicious. People came from all over the country, in their finest clothes, ready to party and cook for as long as the party goes.

So I guess what I'm saying is, if you visit the Gam, try and hit the 25th year of a Jola village because you will see people come from far and wide to celebrate the snip-snip that ushers these boys into manhood. Whether they're 2 years old...or 20.

we are pausing. i'll get back to it, i've got big plans for the letter C. but i just wanted to take this opportunity to plug my project, and, obviously, ask for money. you can write it off when you do your taxes!

i'm a member of our country's gender and development committee, and myself and a few other members got together to make a proposal for a camp for middle school girls talking about caring for the environment. we've talked to quite a few organizations here, and drawn a lot of support from the community, and, thankfully, the US embassy. But we are relying on this grant, donations from home, for the backbone of our budget. your money will go to lodging for the girls, teaching aids, food, travel, guest speakers' travel, and our big last night talent show (environmentally themed, of course. who can do the best Earth-friendly teaching activity?). it's hard to imagine in America, but these girls are growing up in a country with a rapidly-growing population (the majority of the population is under 15 here) and no real solid-waste disposal infrastructure. it's a plastic bag graveyard over here, and it's only going to get worse. we're aiming to give the girls strategies for avoiding plastic use, ideas about re-using aluminum, glass, paper, and other normally thrown-away items, and pairing this all with a series of activities geared towards giving them ability to go home and tell all their friends. in addition, we're asking prominent female community members who serve in relevant fields to talk about environmental awareness, so it's not just coming from us. in a place where every day is a struggle, conservation isn't an everyday theme. we know we're not going to change all that with 30 girls and 5 days, but we also know that starting on the ground instead of in the sky is a much more practical approach. so please check it out (there's a much more vocabulary-ridden description for you there), dig deep, and help us help Gambia.

thanks!!!!

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=635-072

*****this post contains adult themes********

What is a bumster? The question is not what, but who? And there are many of these "whos" around here. A bumster is the term for a male sex worker, a male prostitute. They patrol the beaches, clubs, and other high tourist-traffic areas of the Gambia, looking for their prey: the Boss Lady. IF, and this is a mighty big if, with tourism plummeting, they happen to find that special Boss Lady, she will accept him as her "tour guide." Then she will buy him things, pay him for sex, or simply fall in love with him and marry him, so he can go back to wherever she's from and reap the benefits of no longer living in a third-world country. It's a good reason to hustle. However. Bumsters are some of the most obnoxious people on the planet. Especially to unmarried white women. Also, just because a man has never been compensated for sex before doesn't mean he's not up to try. 97% of Gambian men have a little bit of bumster in them. If they're hassling you to marry them and get them a visa, you can say you're being "bumstered," it's not just about the carnal relations. So let me amend my earlier definition; a bumster is a term for a male sex worker, a hustler, or a wannabe trophy hubby. Good?

Despite all their annoying tendencies, when bumsters are not talking to you, well, they're hilarious. The squats and thrusts they do on the beach to simultaneously tone their bodies and get the lady tourists to notice them. They wear outrageously tight and revealing clothing, usually women's jeans. They preen. The sad yet funny spectacle of the 22 yr old stud and his 65 yr old girlfriend...he doesn't care who he's with, as long as she foots the bill. It leads to excellent discussions, do you think they're in love? How did they meet? The way they will hit on each of your friends in short order, undaunted by rejection. "oh, you have american boyfriend? that's ok. i will be your gambian boyfriend." The names they give themselves to make them sound tough or cool. My favorites so far: Powerful Striker, More Fire, and No-Waste Timeless.

I do, however, absolutely hate being called boss lady. Sometimes they will holler at you, to get your attention, "hey boss lady! hi!" It's the worst. It makes you feel like you're giving off that desperate "i cam e to this country to get hitched" vibes you get from some of the tourists.

This man is not a bumster. He is an employee of the reptile farm of the Gambia. He is, however, wearing a mesh tank top, otherwise known as a "bumster jersey." They have been dubbed so because many bumsters favor them because they give the illusion of being fully-clothed while still allowing you to show off every last muscle. Also it's hot here, and they're just trying to keep cool. Right.

Some bumsters on the beach. For obvious reasons, I didn't want to get to close. Note the excellent push-up form.

it's offical. i've hit the wall. they all told me i would, and much sooner. allegedly after a year or so of being here, you experience blog-block. everything becomes ordinary and you run out of things to blog about. it's not that i don't have a lot to say. it's just that i don't know what to notice to say it. anyways, in an effort to un-blogblock, i've decided to go through the alphabet and blog about something in the Gambia with that letter. eventually i'll either leave the country...or think of something real to say. so let's get this ball rolling....

A is for Asobi.

Asobi (that's ah-soo-bee) is one of those words that is the same in every language here. It means everyone wears the same fabric, and usually the same style, as everyone else. I understand asobi exists throughout West Africa, though it often has different names. Gambians LOVE asobi. It's very common to get it for events, either with your work colleagues (all the teachers at my school have an asobi, for example) or your friends. It's sort of the opposite of America, 2 or 3 girls will show up to a party in the same dress...on purpose. And think it's awesome. Families also get asobi, at times. My host family (extended...my host father, his brothers, and their children. and their children's children) are getting an asobi for my cousin's naming ceremony. I am very excited, even though I specifically requested they select a fabric that doesn't look terrible on white people...and the did anyways. I will manage. Anyways, here's an example of asobi from the Peace Corps' volunteer swearing in ceremony...we got different styles, but the same idea...

and another from the Peace Corps All-Volunteer Conference

and finally, here's the asobi, american-style my parents brought for my host family when they came to visit. I would estimate my youngest host brother wears his Vandy tee-shirt 4-6 days a week.

What does asobi say about Gambian culture? I think it's a great representation of just how much community means to them. Gambia is very much a community-based society, and asobi is a representation of this. Whenever someone invites me to have an asobi with them, I am flattered because I take it as a sign I'm really a part of the group/community. It's fun. Asobi is usually made for an event, but you get really fun moments when you wear it weeks later and your friend does, too. Asobi is more then just matchy-match fabric, it's an expression of unity. It's one of my favorite things about ceremonies here.

That's it for A....B is on the way coming, soon-soon.

hiiiiii everyone. i've decided, instead of writing a relavant post, to share with y'all an article i wrote for our post's gender and development newsletter. i worked hard on it, so if it sucks...don't comment. :)

Where My Girls At? Women Working In Environmental Fields

One of the most heart-swelling moments I’ve had in this country was watching an older woman address a gathering of people on the importance of mangroves. She had been living and working around these incredible trees for years and only recently learned of their ecological importance. Given the opportunity to address a tree-planting crew on why they had assembled, her voice soared confidently across the crowd, proud to be sharing her knowledge. When she sat down, bursting with pride, the whole room exploded into applause. She had said what we all needed to hear.

Even if they are just cooking the lunch for a group of men clearing a firebreak, women are working for the environment in a way they understand. This means it’s your job to ask them, do you know why we’re making this firebreak? They probably do. And they’d probably love to tell you all about it. So next time you head to your forestry camp, your agriculture extension office, to the headquarters of your nearest environmentally friendly NGO, look for the women. Thank them. Educate them. It’s your world as well as theirs.

Personally, I see the environment as an issue where men and women have an equal stake. If this planet’s health takes a nosedive, we’ll all be going down with it. This is why it’s important for everyone, not just women, not just men, to be educated on sustainable environmental practices. GAD is all about equality, and this is an easy area to address without getting into too many “responsibility” issues. Taking care of the Earth is everyone’s job. That being said, there are some pre-determined gender roles when you come down to the particulars, and that’s a great place to GAD-up any environmental work you may be doing. Empowering women isn’t just about breaking gender roles. It’s about giving them the knowledge to understand the world around them. Women in this society are more then capable of nurturing a bevy of screaming children, nurturing a planet is well within their capabilities.

How do we educate women about the environment? Start in your compound. Talk to your host sisters. Sit in on a meeting of your local women’s group. Have them think about what they’re doing to the planet every day. I’m not talking about a guilt trip. I’m talking about bringing conservation concepts into the forefront of their minds. Environmental education can be done at every level; it’s really all about awareness.

In the field, many environmental extension workers are men. OK, almost all of them. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t women out there working effectively to save the environment. True, they may not get sweet motorbikes and they may not be chatting up all the alkalos, but they’re there. And they’re working towards a greener Gambia. For example, a woman named Binta essentially runs the regional forestry department in my area. Yes, there’s a government-appointed figurehead, and yes, he does actually do effective work sometimes (gasp). But for the daily monotony of keeping that place running? Binta makes it happen. Period. And this isn’t uncommon. A large component of our up-coming girls camp (yes, this is a plug) is having women working in environmental fields speak to the girls, allowing their malleable, sponge-like brains to soak up every inspiring word about how they can work for the environment, too. We want girls who understand the environmental problems they stand to inherit, girls that are passionate about taking care of their country. We will be using women who embody these values. And what we’re finding as we look for these speakers is that women are working for the environment not only on the ground, but also behind the scenes. They’re behind desks, getting the paperwork done. They’re making sure the tractors are ready for trash collection. They’re calling Lamin over and over to make sure the seedlings will be ready for the tree-planting exercise. They’re pushing the Gambia to be a greener nation, with every small task.

Is this where women deserve to be? I’m not saying this is true. I’m saying that there are plenty of Gambians who don’t think about the environment, and I’m glad there are women out there who leave their homes every day to do just that. I am saying that they deserve to be acknowledged whether they realize it or not. -Casey

hello hello. i'm back, in one piece and not all that worse for wear. maybe my pockets are a little lighter, but hey, travel will do that to you. now that i have been to 4, count 'em, 4 west African countries i feel my perspective has grown enough to present you, gentle reader, with this list.

THINGS THAT ARE EXTREMELY HELPFUL TO LIKE WHEN LIVING/TRAVELLING IN WEST AFRICA.

1. WAITING. for transport. for someone to call you back. for your phone to have service. for your visa. for the immigration guy to come back with your passport. for your food. for your check. for your laundry to dry. for water. for the airport to get power back so you can check in. for prayers. just waiting.

2. MAYONNAISE. on anything. and while we're on the topic of food...

3. BREAD ON PASTA. carbs can only be improved, clearly, by the addition of more carbs. sold.

4. PALM OIL. yumm.

5. AKON. this one is probably the least negotiable.

6. CELINE DION. this one is much more important if you are a male.

7. SPEAKING LANGUAGES IMPERFECTLY. if you're not mixing your french with your wolof with your english with your malinkee with your pulaar with your krio, what are you doing? just use your hands a lot and point.

8. GREETING. this will be 95% of your interactions. just follow the format.

9. LAYERS. it doesn't matter if the patterns match, just throw on some more fabric!

10. MAN LOVE. there's a lot of hand-holding, lap-sitting, leg-touching, male friendship. it's ok, you have 3 wives. you can be as comfortable as you want in your masculinity.

11. CHECKING FOR QUALITY BEFORE YOU BUY, THEN SAYING IT'S NOT THAT QUALITY FOR A LOWER PRICE. do it.

12. SHOUTING/ LOUD NOISE. it's the only true way to be excited/talk on your phone in a crowded car. or a house. or anywhere.

13. TALKING ON YOUR PHONE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE ABOUT ANYTHING. privacy? pshaw.

14. MARRIAGE PROPOSALS AFTER ANY INTERVAL POST MEETING YOU. but your walk is SO smart!

15. PEOPLE KEEPING THEIR PET MONKEYS ON SHORT TETHERS. i guess it is protecting you from rabies.

16. THE CALL TO PRAYER. you haven't heard it till you've heard it echoing around the mountains. amazing.

17. BOOBIES. you're going to see them. breast-feeding is beautiful and natural. so is taking your shirt off when it's really hot out and you're a 50 year old woman.

18. TAKING ANY FREE RIDE YOU CAN GET. this one is especially important when you've been waiting on the side of the road for several hours.

19. CONSERVING OR FINDING ALTERNATIVES TO TOILET PAPER. the more you travel, the better you'll get.

20. MAKING LOTS AND LOTS OF FRIENDS, SEEING NEW AND BEAUTIFUL SIGHTS, ENCOUNTERING CRAZY ANIMALS, AND NEVER SLEEPING ENOUGH. just do it.

i guess i should begin with an apology. sorry. i mean to update more, but the Internet has been really slow lately...and i've been both really busy and really lazy. what have i done since i last posted? counted oyster spat, taught about endangered species, endured a week-long administrative conference, gone on a trek around the entire Gambia (it's hot upcountry), ridden my bike, taught some more kids about HIV, attended some meetings, written some grants, celebrated some birthdays, tickled some host siblings, andddd planned a trip to Sierra Leone and Guinea. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i leave friday. it's going to be awesome. i can barely concentrate. but i just wanted to tell a little story illustrating how much my perspective has shifted since i got here. this actually isn't much of a story, but it proves it's point. last night, my host sister and i were leaving a naming ceremony-the last part of the ceremony, where you just run out the last of the generator fuel by having a dance party with everyone under the age of 8-and we stopped in the shop to chat with our friend, the shop-keeper's wife. there was a man from Senegal there who spoke French. and only French. he didn't speak mandinka, pulaar, wolof, jola...just french. my host sister and i were fascinated. we pooled together our meager french to ply him with questions. where did he come from? what tribe were his parents? how did he get to the gambia? what language did his mother speak? what did they say in his compound? who was he staying with? before i came here, i wouldn't have been surprised by someone speaking only the official language of their home country. most americans only speak english. but living here has given me a new perspective on "official language." in a way, they have helped developing nations-allowing them to communicate on global level, making them more relevant members of the international community. at the same time, though, it's amazing how people manage without them. i would say you could absolutely spend your entire life in the gambia and never have to speak a word of english (the official language). but to spend your whole life in the gambia never using dialect? you wouldn't be able to talk to your age-mates, really talk to them, until around 8th grade. you wouldn't be able to talk to the shop-keepers, all idle chatter would be impossible. it would almost be impossible not to acquire local language skills, living here your whole life. i never thought mono-linguism would be so alarming. but it was a false alarm. this man really just wanted to command the attention of two young ladies. hours later, after we'd been dissecting and discussing (who did he play with as a child? what if he had a travelling emergency) a mutual friend informed us that the man in fact spoke fula and was joking with us. very convincingly, but still, joking. and he gave me so much to reflect on! so that was it. a typical night. a typical situation. a typical west african man, lying to the ladies for a little attention. typical.

my cat had a kitten. things are pretty adorable around my house lately.

so i recently took a little trip to Senegal for a softball tournament, the West African Invitational Softball Tournament. i am not very good at softball, but i am very good at sitting in a bus for 8 hours and then enjoying the more advanced nature of Dakar. What does Dakar have that Gambia doesn't, you may ask?

well. let me make a list.

1. real paved roads that are regularly maintained

2. sidewalks...which is good because when the road is nicely paved you can drive really fast.

3. street signs. and speed limits.

4. MALLS.

5. ice cream.

6. urban planning

7. beer other than julbrew

8. confusing money

9. trampolines on the beach

10. marines. apparently they guard the american embassy. in countries where the embassy might actually be threatened.

11. grocery stores that sell produce. even apples. APPLES.

so there are a lot of other differences, but these are the ones that really stuck out in my mind. also, fairly early on in my trip i decided that Senegal is the Canada of the Gambia. the similarities? Senegal has french-speakers, lots of plains/empty flat spaces, it's to the north (ahem. and the south) and therefore significantly colder (which was awesome), and they have a superior health care system. the rest is basically the same. it was not unlike going from america to canada. i dubbed Senegal "Canagal," which is really fun to say. I also tried to speak in a canadian accent whenever possible. i think others got tired of hearing "round-abooot" instead of round-about, but trust me, it was funny every time.

dakar is a nice city, but i think i'm a village girl at heart. I don't know if i'll ever go back. but i loved it. if you want details, you'll just have to ask.

hiiiii. the parents have come and gone, it was amazing incredible hilarious, you'll just have to ask them. i'm a little brain fried so instead of writing a wonderful post i'm going to post some of the pictures from the handwashing workshop i did with my school's peer health club.

this is right before they performed the handwashing song. notice Mariama laying down the law with the altos. well, there was no rhyme or reason for how they were standing. so the 3 girls in the corner.

this is my new puppy booby. she attended the workshop as well. she did a great job. until she got underfoot during the drama and somebody tripped over her.

omar's cartoon. note the second panel. yes, that person is pooping. yes, it is red.

yay.

it was a great day and we all learned why handwashing is important. i'm working on the follow-up.

hi everyone! i know it's been an ENTIRE YEAR since i last posted. i've been too busy ringing in the new year and not having access to internet/free time. when i have one, i seem to lose the other. we are a little over an hour from the moment my creators step into the Gambia. am i excited? yes. is my village excited? yes. are the kids ready to greet them? no.

i tried to have them practice on some of my peace corps friends, and the moment a white person who's not me shows up, they get all shy and look at the ground. and mumble. these are the kids who get up from the mat, announce to me quite clearly (and loudly) that they're going to fart in the house, and then scramble away giggling. i am not quite sure where the shyness is coming from. but hopefully my parents can melt their icy hearts with a football (a soccer ball, my brain gets stuck on the local slang) and their constant presence. pretty soon, hopefully, the only thing keeping them from knowing who's going to fart where will be the language barrier.

in case you are wondering about the post title, it's from an email circulated by the embassy here. they are having a meeting/potluck and apparently they want to make sure nobody shows up empty-handed. it made me laugh. i probably won't attend, but if i do i'm going to bring a dish of food for sure.

i apologize for the short post, don't worry, i have a good one planned (really, i wouldn't lie to the blogsphere) but i need to leave for the airport. here's a teaser:

"these are our wives, our mothers, our sisters, our friends. they are all ladies of the night."

yes you will keep checking for updates.

hiiiiiii.

i will, if all goes according to plan, be heading back to my village after oyster surveys wrap up for the month and not coming back to urban civilization until, and i'm not sure this will actually be possible, January. so i'm trying to get all my holiday/christmas wishes out of the way, all the much better to get those tidings of great joy in early, before everyone else gets in the way.

so of course, merry christmas/happy jewish festival of lights to you and yours, i wish we could all spend it together, let me know what you're doing and have a good one. i'm going to spend christmas in village, something i hadn't originally planned on doing, but so many people requested that i spend christmas there that i had no choice but to concede. it's going to be interesting, for sure, they treat christmas here about like they treat Tobaski, which means that those religiously inclined (so this time, the village's Christians) have a feast of freshly slaughtered meat (pigs instead of rams for Christmas)and everyone else treats it like a normal day, until that night when the parties start. Now, Tobaski is a 2-3 day holiday, which somehow wound up meaning 6 straight nights of parties. Christmas is only one day, and a Saturday, so maybe it will only be 1 or 2 nights. There's no place like home for the holidays, so everyone gets off work and school, even though the vast majority of them aren't celebrating anything. Well, they're celebrating not having to go to work or school, so that means PARTY. the parties here are unlike ceremonies, i think they're most equivalent to concerts. what generally happens is one group of people (friends, football teams, etc) gets together and pools their money to rent a sound system. they charge a small entry fee at the door, and attempt to make back their money before the generator runs out. everyone gets all gussied up in their most risque clothing (short skirts and dresses, generally glittery with leggings that just barely, just BARELY cover the knee) and dances middle-school style, in a circle with their girlfriends/ male cohorts. these events usually start around "9 or 10 pm," which, in Gambian time, means between midnight and one. they run "until mamma calls you home," which, in Gambian time, means until the generator breaks or around 4. those that consider themselves "too old" for that sort of thing either go to concerts (drumming, kora, etc) that begin a little earlier, and end around the same time, or organize beach parties, where they brew tea on the beach and chat. sometimes there is juice.

in my nostalgia for trees and carols, i didn't really have the right "christmas:party" mindset, but i think everyone has set me straight. it's not a day to spend with your family and friends, it's a day to stay up late and listen to Jamaican music, as long as the generator doesn't break (the generator, by the way, breaks probably 4 out of every 7 times a party is thrown). and it will be fun. and what i really like is that everyone knows i'm a christian, and they know that christmas is a special day for me, and it's a good chance for me to share some of my culture with them. it's opened the door for some nice conversations about family and traditions, which helps to ease the pain of being away from loved ones and gives them something to compare to their own. it's fun.

ok. but onto my christmas soapbox. you're not gonna get away that easily. this is the season of giving, and i hope you're thinking about doing just that. i think when every day you are confronted with the after-effects of good intentions turned out badly, you really start to think about what kind of charity helps people, and what kind enables them. it's the whole "teach a man to fish vs. giving a man a fish" idea. it's not difficult to assume all kinds of charity were good. i know i haven't always known enough about where my money was going. i'm not saying that if you give to the wrong charity they're going to use your money to buy bon-bons and fur coats instead of feeding hungry children. i'm just saying if you really want your money to help, i suggest a "first do no harm" mindset.

you can take a hardline on this, or not. it's your money.

charities that give food to people, i am not enamoured with. char ties that give people animals to raise, breed, and eat, beehives and instruction, or gardening aid (ex. the heifer foundation) build their capacity for feeding themselves and reduce their reliance on handouts strike a chord with me. check yes.

i am in favor of any charitable act that helps educate people. esp. if you can send someone to technical/vocational school, because i feel these are often overlooked for more formal education opportunities. chances are, if someone wants to go to a technical or vocational school, they have identified a talent and will be able to find a job in the future in that field. also, donations to technical or vocational schools i think are another under looked avenue of giving, because that helps everyone enrolled, including those paying their own way who may not be able to afford materials. in addition, the higher quality of materials they have to learn with, the more work they will be able to do.

as far as medical charity, i don't know very much. i know that often expired drugs are donated and that makes me angry. also i think it's important, as far as health goes, for people to receive not only pills but preventative education. i don't just mean condoms. i mean handwashing, water purification practices, malaria prevention measures. there are some good ones out there. do your research.

buying products made by groups as a result of micro-finance is generally, but not always, a pretty safe way to go.

the question you should ask yourself when giving is "how will this money improve the recipients life ON A LONG TERM BASIS?" too many money-now charitable donations are squandered, or wind up going towards things that the donor would probably never imagine, or approve of. if your donation can't be measured on a long term basis for indicators of progress, and there's no one in place to do that, maybe you should give somewhere else. i know it's a little more labor intensive, but i think it's the morally responsible thing to do. you don't want to solve people's problems with charity, you want to give them the tools to solve their own problems.

all that being said, if you really want to know who i think you should donate money to this season, it's the Peace Corps. there are these grants called "peace corps partnerships" where a volunteer writes a grant, it's posted on a website, and people donate. there are a lot of different projects up there, from every country the peace corps goes to, so you can pick your passion. no, i haven't done one. i may, and i'll let everyone know and beg you to send your lunch money to the Gambia when i do. but i thought i would plug it anyways, this is the website:

http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate

You can browse the projects on your own. If you need a suggestion, one of my friends here is doing a healthy babies project i think is pretty cool. her last name is Green, search her.

another, similar website i can recommend is a little more focused: all their projects are on access to clean water and sanitation. you can also pick your own project, a lot of Peace Corps volunteers wind up posting with them:

http://www.watercharity.org/

these are just suggestions from me. you don't have to give to any of them. there are people right outside your door who probably need it. but that's what i really want for christmas, is everyone who reads this blog to do one charitable act, whilst thinking of me. even if you just donate a book to a book drive, or make a small donation to your local vocational school. tis the season, right?

thanks.

p.s. if you want to make my heart burst with joy you'll post what you did in the comments section. or tell me privately.

i took this one because every single one of these girls had a lovely complet (that means outfit) and prayer shawl. can you see all the glitter?

a glance at the prayer fields, the man in the middle is reading from the Koran

the boys all dressed up

some lovely girls from the hood striking a pose, or, as they call it, "making a style"

that's right, it's ram-mer time.

next week is Eid al-Adha, also known as Tobaski in West Africa, the Muslim celebration of Abraham being willing to sacrifice his own son to God as a sign of his obedience. luckily for Ishmael (Abraham's son) Allah was merciful and at the last moment allowed Abraham to sacrifice a ram instead. thus, every year on the 10th day of the 12th Islamic month, Muslims around the world sacrifice a ram (or a cow, or a goat, or a camel) to represent the sacrifice Abraham would have made. Each family here sacrifices, and the 1/3 of the meat is retained, 1/3 is given to relatives, and 1/3 is given to the poor.

i was here for Tobaski last year, so i know generally what will go on. here are some givens for a Gambian Tobaski celebration (or as i like to call it, ram season)...

...you WILL see gellys careening down the roadways at full speed with multiple rams and goats tied to the roof...

...you WILL see children petting and playing with the ram they will be eating hours later...

...you WILL be asked to watch everyone slaughter their rams, no matter how many times you say you don't want to see that...

...you WILL have handfuls of ram meat shoved into your face for at least 3 days...

...you WILL have to buy a fancy new outfit and accessorize it with every sparkly piece of jewelry you can lay hands on...

...you WILL not be able to do any work for the week preceding and the week following Tobaski...

...you WILL hear conflicting reports on which day Tobaski actually begins, and find that different villages celebrate on different days...

...you WILL hear at least one story about a family who's Tobaski ram gave them the slip...

and so many other things. i am very excited for Tobaski this year, partially because I'm going to be spending it with my host family and partially because i'm going to make my students dissect their ram hearts (what a perfect time to be learning the circulatory system). Tobaski is a fun holiday, despite it's seemingly somber roots, it's a very happy time. families come together, everyone goes home from the city to visit their villages, and after the prayer fields in the morning it's nothing but a party. it's the one time the ladies get to try and outshine each other without having to make sure they don't look as good as the baby's mother or bride, like at naming ceremonies or weddings. i'll try and get plenty of pictures, everyone is sure to look amazing.

also, i'm very excited to go to the prayer fields, because i missed it last year due to training activities. i might be the most excited about this, because the sight of everyone in my village praying at once is sure to be a beautiful thing. one of my favorite things about observing the Muslim community I live in is seeing how much their faith unifies them. they believe so strongly as a community, it's almost tangible. i know that it will be a very special morning.

and then we get to sit down on the brand new ram rugs and talk about who has the best new outfit.

why, you may ask?

because i have officially been in the Gambia for a year (and a few days).

i was busy doing stuff in the village so i didn't get to do any celebration but i decided to redesign the blog. do you like? if you do, great, if you don't tooo bad.

the background looks suspiciously like a coastal village where i spend a majority of my time.

anyways i'll probably do a real post when i can form coherent thoughts.

but for now...just know i made it through my first year. YAY.

hey everyone. i feel like, thus far, most of my postings have been upbeat and optimistic, or at least had a positive spin. this is partially because i don't want the gentle reader to think i'm having a horrible time, and partially because early on in my service i made a conscious decision to keep myself in a positive mindset, something i work at everyday, and something that has definitely made my service better.

so how do i really feel? i love it. i hate it. i want to go home tonight, i want to stay forever. some days, the only thing keeping me here is knowing that if i were anywhere else in the world, no matter what i was doing, i'd be kicking myself for not being here. and at the end of the day, that's it.

before i came here, i did the opposite of what most people do, i closed my eyes and tried not to learn about Gambia or africa in general. i wanted to be surprised, to see it all with fresh eyes. i don't regret this at all, but i was surprised to find upon arriving here that i have an unquenchable thirst for african literature. not just Gambia, but the Congo, Madagascar, South Africa, Benin, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Egypt, if it's a book set on the continent i want to read it. i thought i would be looking for an escape, but far from it. i can't fill my mind with it, with the unique cultures of the individual tribe mingled with a sameness that flows over the entire continent. it makes me hungry to see it all, far more than i was before i came.

i never really understood why people loved africa. i can't say that my love is the same as anyone else's. i know this: it can tear you down. it can rip you apart. there are days when you couldn't put another grain of rice in your mouth for the world, when it's so hot you pray to fall asleep, when your whole body is sore and your work has only begun. there are days you can't work because your body is railing against whatever you have put in it, sidelining you from all activities except (hopefully) hydrating. but you recover. you eat the rice. you sleep in the wee morning hours, you finish your work. you heal.

it can build you up, too. you can hold an infant just minutes old. you can make friends with old ladies who will tell their entire compound you're coming over to chat, and then beam sweetness on you while you stumble through a language that rolls off your tongue like peanut butter, elated that you have really come to see her. you can watch your trees grow, your gardens flourish, your friendships thrive. you can eat some of the most delicious things you will ever put in your mouth, fruits and rice puddings and fried doughballs, strange meats you don't know the origin of, rice. sometimes rice is all you need.

there are days like roller coasters. you are ecstatic, you are destroyed. you can't move for the life of you, you're ready to ride your bike for 2 hours without another thought. you are strangled by the tight-knit community you exist in, you feel cherished by every one of your "home people." i'm not saying it's just emotional. you see kids getting beaten, people felling precious trees for no reason, and later that day you're laughing at the joyful dances as the women gather in a friends compound, impromptu. you see someone sick go the clinic and get sent home with expired meds. you see mothers unable to read the dosage indications, and wonder what would happen if someone wasn't there to step in. you see failed attempts at development, hard work and infrastructure ground into the ground by natural causes, or worse, inattention. rogue cows destroy fences, fields, a whole season's worth of work gone in 10 minutes. you see the shadow of corruption, the victims of indiscretions. the family with a car and a tv living next door to the family of 8 with 1 bed, no land, no animals to bear their burdens, no well, no prospects for improvement. you see teachers striking their students, you see kids who don't go to school at all because their parents can't afford school fees, so they're faced with the workload of an adult while their peers heap knowledge into their brains, building themselves a much brighter future. or no future at all, if they can't learn because of the underpaid disdain of the teachers and the lack of needed materials, pencils, notebooks, classroom space.

but what i find most striking about africa is how completely alive it is. it is teeming, pulsing, overflowing with life. from the hundreds of crickets living behind the curtains, to the lizard living in the ceiling, to the 18 foot python crawling through the bush and the termites systematically eating everything in their path. ants are everywhere, flies are inescapable. monkeys frolic in the trees, birds shout a chorus from their perches as you pass, and small boys play beneath, or climb up for bush fruit. grasses grow like crazy, weeds busting through the most improbable places. the intensity of life magnifies every day, while making it seem like no time has passed at all since you set foot here. you feel more alive than you ever thought, and you know that it's something you will never fully explain. something you think everyone should know.

one of my favorite mandinka proverbs is the title of this post: the week doesn't end on a Monday. i take this to mean that even if a day is horrible, terrible, the worst you could imagine, don't give up because there's tomorrow. and when you have the worst day you could imagine, and it happens more than you thought possible, you have to say well, that was Tuesday.

what about Wednesday.

and you go on. and africa goes on around you.

it's blurry, but it's there. this is me and the oyster spat, they were HUGE this month. that's right, i'm on a boat. don't you ever forget.

i took some good ones that i'll put on facebook eventually, prob sometime after halloween. you know, when things calm down a little. i keep telling myself that's going to happen. anyways, love to you all!

happy 10.10.10. when does this happen? the group 350.org took the opportunity to organize a "global work party" to promote awareness amongst the youth about global climate change. we had a beach cleanup party, it was pretty sweet. dancing and raking and some of the kids did a drama about climate change...precious.

otherwise, i'm not sure if y'all heard but i have a new acquisition: a full-grown she-goat named sparkin' (my neighbor's football nickname). she big and beautiful, and i'm throwing her a naming ceremony on friday, much to the excitement of my host family. it's not going to be a real naming ceremony, which would be entirely too ironic because there are 2 types, a nyambo and a koolyio, and the distinction is that at a koolyio you slaughter a goat and a nyambo you only slaughter a chicken. but i don't really wanna slaughter anything. so we're being careful what we call it. she's huge, way bigger than all the other goats that live in my compound. the first night there was a little tussle in the goat hutch and guess who came out on top? absolutely miss sparkin'. she rules the roost.

and maybe my cat's cat is pregnant. pow was introduced to our compound by baby monkey and she eventually adopted us the way cats do, but she's a female and apparently not a lady. my host sister told me that when they don't want dogs to give birth, they give them water with blue powder, and she suggested i try that on pow. i said no. but it did make me think about the mystery that is blue powder.

see, here in the Gam there aren't a whole lot of washing machines, but that doesn't stop people from wanting to wear white. it's kind of a sign of wealth and faith, gleaming white for the most special of occasions. and also, inexplicably, most school uniforms. whites are wanted to be as white as possible, which presents quite a task to the launder-er. the solution? blue powder. they soak they're shirts in this blue powder and therefore after several washings white clothes are definitely bluish, but considered to be a shining beacon of cleanliness. this blue powder is an extreme mystery to me, i've examined the packet but it has no ingredients and it just says the name in english and arabic. what is it? how did this tradition come about, where blue is, in fact, the new white?

and if it can take care of unwanted puppy pregnancies, what else does it do? how much of it is seeping into the ground water? there's a lot of white clothes walking around. well. bluish white.

just another mystery.

hi blogosphere. how are things? i'm busy like the bees, Ramadan's over and I'm 24 now (i know, i know, old lady) and super-busy. our trip to Spain for mine and my grandmother's birthdays (we share one) was amazing, i'm still dreaming about gelato. i just finished a 2 day HIV/AIDs training, so i can more confidently incorporate AIDS education in my work. i've also been working on the tree nursery competition, since my regional co-coordinator and i were in the same place at the same time (a rare occurrence). i made a little quiz for the teachers, to give their students and get incorporate into their lessons about the importance of trees. i know america doesn't have the same tree crisis as over here, but i think the quiz is pretty interesting (probably cuz i made it), and it might even inspire some of you to go out there and plant trees (or at least do some recycling!) anyways, here it is, questions first, answers second so don't scroll down and cheat!

1) One tree produces ______ kg of oxygen per year.

a. 36

b. 82

c.117

d. 250

2) 0.4 hectares of trees remove _______ of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere every year.

a. 23 kg

b. 2.6 tons

c. 1.2 tons

d. 1 ton

3) The age of a tree can be calculated by ___________.

a. the rings in the trunk

b. the width of the roots

c. it’s height

d. the number of fruits it produces

4) A tree can store the most carbon after it has been alive for _______ - or more!

a. 3 months

b. 2 years

c. 6 years

d. 10 years

5) Trees provide food and shelter for _____________.

a. birds

b. people

c. insects

d. all of the above

6) Worldwide, more than _______ hectares of trees are lost to deforestation every year.

a. 4 million

b. 13 million

c. 12 million

d. 7 million

7) Trees prevent loss of nutrient-rich topsoil by__________.

a. their root systems preventing erosion

b. creating natural windbreaks

c. both a and b

d. none of the above

8) In Africa, out of every ___ trees cut down, only ONE tree is replanted.

a. 28

b. 45

c. 3

d.13

9) Over the past 100 years, West Africa has been stripped of ____ of its forest cover.

a. 20 %

b. 35%

c. 78%

d. 90%

10) People in the Gambia rely on trees for _________.

a. bush fruits

b. medicine

c. fuel wood

d. all of the above…and more!

ANSWERS:

1.C.

One tree produces 117 kg of oxygen per year, the oxygen that we breathe every day. Trees produce oxygen as a byproduct of photosynthesis, a process by which they take in carbon dioxide and sunlight and use it to create their food (carbohydrates), than release oxygen as a byproduct.

2.B.

Less than one hectare of trees can remove up to 2.6 tons of carbon dioxide from the air every year! Because carbon dioxide is a greenhouse gas, this means that trees are a major weapon against global climate change.

3.A.

The scientific process of dendrochronology allows scientists to date trees by analyzing the rings seen in the cross-section of a tree’s trunk. A tree usually adds a ring per year, unless the weather that year is irregular.

4.D.

Trees are able to store more carbon as they age, and they store the most after they have been living for ten years. Trees also remove other pollutants from the air, such as ozone (another greenhouse gas) and sulfur dioxide, and nitrogen oxides.

5.D.

Trees are habitats for many different species of animals, and provide building materials for the homes of most humans. Trees even provide homes or shelter for marine animals, such as oysters that live on tree roots or fish that lay eggs there. Trees also provide fruits to flavor our sauces, and feed us, such as baobab and their leaves feed many mammals we live with, such as goats.

6.C.

Deforestation is a serious threat to the health of our environment. At least 12 million hectares of trees are lost every year, and the trees cut down are often not replanted, leaving animals homeless and releasing tons of carbon back into the atmosphere.

7.C.

Not only do trees clean up the air and provide homes for wildlife, they also preserve the land around them. They provide stability with their root systems that keeps soil in place, and they create natural windbreaks that prevent topsoil from being blown away.

8.A.

Only one out of every 28 trees cut down is replanted. This means that out of 100 trees cut down, only three or four new trees are planted. Make it your goal to replace EVERY tree you cut down. Trees are one of the cheapest, easiest ways to clean up our environment.

9.D.

West Africa (including the Gambia) is one of the most severely affected areas of the world. Over 90% of West Africa’s forest cover has been lost over the past century, robbing them of all the benefits of trees. Desertification, the degradation of land in climates such as West Africa has, is accelerated by loss of trees like this.

10.D.

Gambians use trees for many things, such as medicine, shade on hot days, bush tea, flavoring sauces, building houses, cooking, selling fruits to supplement income, fencing fields, and many other things. Can you think of a way not listed here that you and your family use trees?

if i were an 8th grader, this quiz would make me plant a tree. just saying.

love everybody!

casey

hold on to your headscarves ladies and gents, it's ramadan. or as the mandinka aptly call it, sungkaro, or fasting month. and fast they do. from sun-up to sun-down, no eating. or drinking. and those rice fields aren't going to tend to themselves.

naps are very popular during ramadan.

and, as you might expect, everybody wants to talk about it. there's none of this suffering in silence nonsense that my stoic catholic upbringing may have led me to believe (ok, ok. not that stoic of an upbringing. and i'm aware of the value of a well-timed sigh. i know what catholic guilt is). no, it's more of a shout-it-from-the-rooftops kind of suffering. here's an example of a typical exchange between me and your average ramadan faster, translated from mandinka for your reading pleasure

"hello, do you have peace (a typical greeting here)?"

aisha! (my gambain name). are you fasting today?

"no. i don't fast."

you don't fast? why not? fasting is nice.

"i'm not a muslim. how is your family?"

you should be a muslim. you will fast tomorrow.

"maybe tomorrow i will fast (here, when you say maybe tomorrow i will, that's code for i'm never going to do that. it's pretty handy, unless you actually don't know whether you're going to do something tomorrow or not)"

oh aisha, you should fast. fasting is nice.

"i know. i have to go now"

wait. what time is it? i am so hungry.

"it's 4:30"

aisha, did you know i can't drink water until 7:30? i am so thirsty.

"praise allah."

ok aisha. see you later.

yes, despite being told multiple times how nice fasting is, i remain truly unconvinced. i did go without eating for a few days, more because of a sinus infection than religious conviction. but at least i could lie on the mats with everyone else and complain about how hungry i was. and i did "break fast" with the family at sunset, where you have a small meal to celebrate you can finally eat again. then they pray. a lot. the prayer has reached a new level during these last 10 days of ramadan, where it is said that one of these days (though you can't be sure which one) counts for more than 9 years of prayer and supplication, and fasting. since they don't know which one it is, every night for the last 10 days of ramadan people go to the mosque and pray from 1-4 am, sometimes standing in holy reverance for hours at a time. it's a time of exhausted worship. after praying all night, they eat very early, around 5 am, and then nap, then work in the fields, nap again, break fast, pray, eat dinner, and pray. despite how tedious this sounds, it's not. it's really a very social thing, as well as pious. they get to commiserate. they nap together. they pray together. they mock those who almost fell asleep at the mosque and those who look (ever so slightly) more hungry than the others. all in all, ramadan isn't such a bad deal. for me. because i'm not fasting.

i must say, i did not get as many as my friend did. maybe my beloved mama really IS the only one who reads this thing. hi mom! hi spammers! also i got some sassy facebook questions from my friends who are currently in the Gam, which means they are null and void (and i have some sassy friends). but enough with the intro...

Q. have you been eating meat? if so, is it as terrible as you thought it would be?

A. yes, i've been eating chicken and fish. and someone gave me lizard once. it was a sneak attack, they told me it was a bowl of beans. monitor lizard is not delicious. very stringy. i've been able to avoid beef and pork because people just don't have that here, or if they do they're above my income scale. on holidays, i have on occasion eaten goat or sheep (ram,mostly). that is difficult, the parts i get are really rubbery and it's a huge honor. plus they expect you to watch the sacrifice and subsequent gutting. it's pretty hard to swallow, on every level. i managed to miss the major sacrifice last major holiday, but the ram was in our compound for a few days before and the kids really enjoyed petting and playing with it. they also really enjoyed eating it. and blair, i don't think i could regret crazy burger. it's a great memory now.

Q. would you like me to send you one of those Honey BBQ fritos twists snacks you would always get?

A. heck yes. there's nothing like the real thing.

Q. how has your hip been holding up now that it's the rainy season?

A. my hip has been doing very well. i think all my leg muscles are becoming very strong because i walk 10-20 km on the beach each week doing turtle surveys. i am very sore the next day, but my hip doesn't hurt worse than anywhere else. AND there are basically no stairs or hills here so it's getting a nice break from those, which really disturbed it. by the way, miss blair, how is your ankle? any thoughts on a triumphant rugby return?

Q. when are you getting back and are you up for a reunion?

A. i'm scheduled to come back january 2012. i can't give an exact date because there's been talk of travelling on the way back (some people even take a cruise back and avoid that terrible long plane ride. apparently it also helps with the transition back to the "western" world). i am up for many reunions, and i really, really want to see california. ahem. or oregon.

Q. what's it like to poop in a hole everyday? (this question was asked by a fellow volunteer, but in case you're curious...)

A. fantastic. you never have to clean it.

Q. how many bathrooms does your compound have? (also from another volunteer)

A. this question is funny because outside of the lodges there are no flush toilets for miles. but if you're wondering about the basic family bathroom situation, my compound is pretty typical. they have fenced bathing areas behind each of the 3 bedrooms where all 13 of them bathe, and also urinate. to do your business, there's a family pit latrine in the far back of the backyard, with corrugate around to provide protection.

Q. what is your favorite part of the day?

A. this is a really difficult question, partially because i have many "favorite" moments of every day, and partially because every day is so different. i work on many different projects and they all demand i have a different schedule. but i really enjoy the late evening, when the sun is setting. everyone is getting their baths and they're all clean (for maybe 5 minutes) and we all sit on the porch on our mats together and wait for dinner. sometimes we play games or sing songs, sometimes we just talk. i always go home for dinner so i can get that quality family time.

Q. what's the best advice you have gotten since you've been in the Gambia?

A. this was a really difficult one to answer, because i get advice on EVERYTHING here. peace corps training broke down every tiny aspect of my life and advised me on how to live it. but i think the best advice i've gotten is relax. remember to relax.

because you can't control a damn thing that happens to you here, so you might as well go with it.

every now and again, i say something that just makes people laugh, completely innocently and outside of my intentions. for example, one day i went to work at the school, despite a blossoming headcold and general discomfort. "oh," they said, "you are sick. go home and lay down" and i said "maybe i should. i don't want to get everybody else sick, too."

cue laugh track.

and my clumsy explanation of germ theory. because when i'm sick, everyone around me is going to be too. surrrre. in this instance, the science teacher eventually was able to substansite my claim that illness can, indeed, be passed around like a soccer ball. but there have been several other concepts that i have tried to express to people, where i get the same response:

you say what. (not a question, a statment. so incredulous they can't even make it a question. it's like they're telling me to think about what i'm saying and say it again)

if you're wondering what makes people say those three little words (you say what.)

here are some examples from MY life

-volcanos. when the volcano erupted in iceland, it interupted air travel, which in turn stranded some tourists here and forced others to be stuck there. what is a volcano, i was asked on several occasions. with some people, i didn't get past saying the center of the earth is so very, very hot that rock melts. and the concept of pressure. and an exploding mountain. clouds of ash. that funny word molten. it must have taken me hours to invent such a fantastical story. that was so much better than my little yarn about giant plates under the ground causing earthquakes.

-the mafia. this one was really fun to explain. oh, i started off with the classic example of drugs and restuarants, but that quickly became too abstract so we changed to cows and bitiks (little stores), and families and "boys." but really, is there a society that operates around, under, and over the law? probably not.

-and my personal favorite. i actually suggested that there are countries in asia other than china, and that every asian person is in fact, not chinese. this one was really funny, then incomprehensible. i was really proud of myself, though, because eventually i truly made them understand and believe. i pointed out that they can tell by looking at an african what country he or she is from, even though most people from europe or america can't, and that while africa is very big and has many countries, most people think of it all as one place. i felt so good to hear them say "asia is the same way?" and sometimes, when we see a movie with an asian character, they ask me which country in asia they're from instead of just saying "the chinese"

racial sensitivity is on a very different plane here.

-while we're talking about geography, i also have attempted to spread the word that america isn't really just the us, that the united states are one country, and canada is not a state but an independent nation. and that there's a central and a south america. and i have drawn several maps in the sand showing the almighty atlantic, and that "toubabado" (the place where the toubabs live) is actually several different continents and they are fairly far apart.

*in case you're new to the blog, toubab is the generally accepted word for white person here. the little children see you walking down the street and yell it "toubab! toubab!" then they usually ask you for a minty, which means a piece of candy. under no circumstances do i ever give them candy, or money, or whatever it is they ask for because the last thing you need to learn at such a young age is that you can get something for nothing. i (and quite a few others) become quite enraged when i see tourists throwing candy among crowds of kids. they will fight each other. there will not be enough for everyone. someone will end up crying. and they will ask every toubab they see, for the rest of their childhood days, and maybe their lives, for handouts. this concept, by the way, also does not go over so well with the gambians. "you say what. you don't give them candy because they ask. if i had money, i would give them candy"

well, my well-meaning friend, therein lies the problem. you don't have money, and if you did you would spend it on giving children candy.

this post took a philosophical turn i wasn't prepared for. i can talk about my opinions on sustaniability as it pertains to this culture, and development worldwide, until i'm blue in the face. but i want you to read this blog so you see what's going on here, not in my head. sorry. but i think it's an important concept for us all to think about, so i'm glad it came up.

in other news, my friend did this on her blog and i think it's a really cool idea. if you have questions for me about the gambia, the peace corps, my day-to-day life, i would be happy to do a little FAQ blog post. we'll make the deadline next weds, just comment with your questions, facebook me, or email me. and if i don't get any questions from toubabado, well, i'll make some up.

so it may not come as a suprise to anyone that the tour de france is not as popular as the world cup here. i know, i know. however, as a longtime tour fan, i am itching to catch some race coverage. i've been living vicariously through another volunteer, who has seen maybe 2 stages at some taiwanese project headquarters. i also have been travelling a ridiculous amount lately, so i've been checking the versus website.

and i'm obviously upset with contador because andy schleck is by far my favorite rider these days.

but since i've been travelling so much i've been riding my bicycle more than usual. it's been pretty fantastic, especially the other day when i was riding a few villages over to do sea turtle surveys. they start really early, so i was riding my bike into the sunrise, and for once there was no one else on the road-and i mean no one. no other cyclists, no bush taxis, no donkey carts, not even a cow, goat, or sheep. and riding all by myself, in the cool of the morning, watching this incredible sunrise, i had one of those "oh my goodness i'm in africa!" moments. you just get this surge of energy and happiness and feel like maybe you can do anything. and you feel like maybe you're in one of the most beautiful places in the world. it makes everything feel so worth it, and it's exactly what i needed. i didn't have my camera with me, and i think even if i had it would have stayed in my bag. when i was joining the peace corps, everyone was talking about how you find yourself, how much of a journey it is for you. i never really thought of it that way, i viewed it more as a chance to give myself to other people, to learn how to help from the bottom-up. but watching that sunrise all alone, in a time when i hadn't really been by myself for so long, is something i never knew i needed. what i'm trying to say is, no matter where you are, sometimes you need to appreciate something completely beautiful all by yourself, and internalize that moment. the rest of the day, even though there was the normal stress (and more) and i was tired, i felt myself glowing from that golden moment. i'm not saying i'll be getting on my bike at 5:30 every morning, i'm just saying i'm not going to be complaining next time i have to.

yikes. so i had this thing on my back that we all thought was a staph (staff?) infection, but it turns out i had a run-in with the almighty rove beetle. if you want to see what my back kind of looks like, check out the first picture and then imagine the area right below your (my) shoulderblade looking like that. if you're kind of squeamish, don't even look.

http://fadhlan89.blogspot.com/2009/11/rove-beetle-aka-charlie.html

yes, it is a little comfort that the creature had to die for all this to happen. but only a little. anyways, think good thoughts. and pray this doesn't happen again.

the rains have begun. i was really excited for the rains to come, while most of my host family was not. i thought they weren't excited because the rain means it's time to get working in the fields (nobody's lazy during rainy season). but now that we are a few weeks in, i am seeing that rainy season definitely has it's negatives as well as it's positive points. i'll list a few for you...

pro- it's not as hot. when the rain is falling and right afterwards.

con-it's super, super humid before it does rain. apparently it's been more humid than usual this year so skin infections are running rampant on our volunteer flesh. send dial soap!

pro-everything is getting really, really green. we actually have grass now! i didn't even think that was possible.

con-EVERYTHING is getting really, really green. there is so much mold popping up everywhere.

pro-i don't have to go to the well nearly as often.

con- rainy season = creepy crawly season. oh hello giant spiders, roaches, scorpions, and enormous red bugs. and other assorted beasts.

pro-trees are growing

con-stagnant water everywhere-mosquito breeding grounds

pro-opportunity for malaria education!

so overall i still think it's a win. i'll keep you posted. i haven't stepped in too many terrible puddles yet, and the sand has been nicely packed by the rain. but the puddles here are a new level of gross, you really never know what's under that murky water.

and you really can't beat raindrops on the corrugate. it's such a great sound. and the cool breeze that accompanies them is quite simply heaven. also...we have fantastic thunderstorms. you should all come see it.

so this weekend i went to a naming ceremony in a village to the north of me (actually, all of the gambia is to the north of me). naming ceremonies themselves are a site to behold. don't let the "ceremony" fool you, they're mostly parties. epic, day-long parties. this one was in Jambangjelly (pronounced jom-bon-jelly), which has a fantastic name itself if you ask me. this was a huge naming ceremony, a rager if you will. most of my family here made the trek, they had chartered gellys running back and forth.

i know that sounds convienent. but it's still trying to get roughly 20 women (men attend ceremonies, but travel and do pretty much everything else seperately) all in a car at the same time. 20 excited women, dressed to the nines, yelling over each other, and lugging tons of food. and it's hot out. but we got everyone in the car and drove approx 2k/hr through the village so the women could shout to their friends out the windows, a gambian equvialent of ron burgendy "everyone come see how good i look!" then of course we had to close the windows so nobody's hair got messed up.

the afternoon before the ceremony was spent cooking pancatos, which are kind of like doughnuts, and preparing a sauce from baobab, peanuts, and fake banana flavoring. all of this came on the gelly with us, and of course the pots and giant spoons, that make even the tallest person look like a keebler elf when she stirs the vats of sauce.

we arrived around 11, and i immediately sought out the world cup, while the glammed up women got started cooking breakfast. after the game i came back and was fed the delicious baobab sauce over rice porridge, and chatted with the ladies. my favorite thing to do at naming ceremonies is ask people what the baby's name is, and then count how many people they have to consult before they know. this one was particularly big, so we got up to 6. here, it's tradition that you don't say the baby's name (even if you've picked it out) until it's announced by an imam or other holy man at the ceremony. so it's the point of the party, but everybody gets caught up in clothes and food and i've been to probably 15 naming ceremonies in the past 2 months and seen the baby once. after breakfast it was time to cook lunch and complain about how hot it is. they also prepared a soup to eat while lunch was cooking. they were really confused when i didn't want to eat it, everytime you say you're not hungry, this is the answer you get: "here is africa. it's not about being hungry. you eat."

needless to say i watched the second world cup game of the day and ate mangos with the teenage boys.

then it was time to (you guessed it) eat. and after lunch (rice and chicken) everybody gets changed into their other super-classy outfit, re-does their make-up, and gets ready to cook dinner while the ceremony begins. i missed most of this one because i had to eat other lunch in a neighboring compound (i wasn't around for 1st lunch due to my soccer addiction), but it's basically a lot of greeting all the village elders publicially and talking about the guests. than there' about a 3-minute window where the baby is featured prominently, and then the name is whispered and shouted, and the ceremony is finished. the baby dissappears to sleep, and the mother changes her outfit for the 5th time (mothers are supposed to be the prettiest girl at the ball, so they get multiple outfits made and are photographed over and over again) and struts around, graciously accepting money. also the dancing begins. this ceremony had a dj, but the music is often interupted by the griots. griots are sort of like town criers, combined with court jesters. they sing, go around villages annoucing ceremonies, births, meetings. but then they attend the ceremonies and aggressively serenade people until they give them money. technology has been kind to the griots, nothing makes that job easier than a megaphone. one of the griots at this one would make the dj turn off the music, get on the mike, and just begin naming as many people as she could as they streamed in and out, handing her more and more small bills.

so eventually the griots run out of steam, and there's dancing and juice. juice is my favorite part, because it's delicious and not oily. it's baobab, banana (real banana), sugar, and coconut. somebody apparently leaked that i'm obsessed with this stuff because people just kept giving it to me. luckily i accumulated an entourage of small boys who had no trouble picking up my slack.

and dinner made it's appearance, and the ceremony begin to wind down. the dj packed up, the pancatos had all been distributed, and i missed the 3rd game of the day because i was in a car headed back. a car full of happy, full to the gills ceremony attendees. a car i interrogated comepletely, only to discover i was the only one who, in fact, knew the baby's name.

you know how sometimes you play little games in your head? to keep yourself in a good mindset, and keep your sense of humor about things? it's one of the best things you can do here, especially when you find yourself in what could be a high-stress situation, like a meeting that-suprise-is completely in mandinka (or worse, a language you don't even know any of) or a workshop that was supposed to be over 2 hours ago but you are on item 2 of the agenda and the entire room is arguing over really nothing.

and that's when you have to sit back and watch.

i'm going to make a confession here. i love watching people here yell at each other. not all the time, of course (i almost never like seeing the kids get yelled at, or spousal disputes) but outside of the domestic arguments a good-old fashioned shouting match is a good time here. the best part is this little sound that almost everyone makes at the end of their rant. they say "eh" but it's really high-pitched and almost always makes me giggle. so when a whole room erupts in rants, raves, and "ehs" i generally have to bite my tounge with each new wave of giggles.

but i also attempt to keep a mental tally of how many times they say key buzzwords. it's almost like mental bingo. and the three best words, hands downn, in my line of work to play this tallying game with are community, sensitize, and trees. when you hear one you can just count down from ten and by the time you reach three somebody will have said one or both. it's fantastic if you're in the right mood. if you're not, you should probably drink some water and lie on the floor of your house until you're in a better mood. i recently started lying on the floor of my house on a fairly regular basis because it's without a doubt the coolest place to lie in the heat and i don't have a lot of other options because if it's hot enough to lie on my floor, it's too hot to do anything else. people further upcountry have been dealing with this level of heat and worse for months now. everyday i feel the ocean breeze and again thank my lucky stars i got a beach site.

and today i was doing the progress reports for our schools in the tree nursery competition. my co-regional coordinator and i decided it would be nice to give the schools feedback on what we saw when we visited their nurseries and ways they can improve...so i typed out those 3 words a whole lot today. and you know what? i felt really culturally integrated when i did it. and i think at my next meeting, i'm gonna see how many times i CAN work my keywords into the conversation. because they do encompass an important issue, not just here, but globally. and i want to see if i can double my numbers. :)

come on people. can't we share some knowledge here.

my village, being on the southern coast, is allegedly a green turtle nesting site. we're talking about sea turtles. some of the cutest, most threatened animals around.

so i'm looking for someone to start a dialogue with.

but i can't read any of the articles because i don't belong to those online journals.

people get so worked up about music streaming and file-sharing. i've always been one to say, let's pay for music. they're trying to make a living. but this isn't music i'm trying to enjoy. i just want to read some papers. i know they worked hard for their publications. but i also know that i just want to find out who's monitoring the sea turtles in this country and that info's not exactly on google.

but i did find some contacts. i'm just all worked up because abstracts are so tantalizing, but contain little to no information. they just taunt you with how helpful they could be but aren't until you pay and register and have a monthly subscription to a journal you aren't actually interested in.

i miss the system from uri where i could actually read them. who would ever think you'd miss reading scientific articles?

other than my momentary setbacks, things are fantastic. i'm doing more teaching at the school, which i LOVE. the kids are mostly great and even when they misbehave it's funny and i can't really be mad at them. and i'm teaching biology but i keep talking about environmental issues, digressing and all. but they don't mind and neither do i. and we get to play learning games, what could be better? there's a lot of talk about coastal protection going on, which is also, of course, really exciting. and the forrestry department is thinking about resurrecting our community forrest. that's one bright ray of sunshine. i don't know how much of this will actually happen, but at least people are thinking about it. last time i was at the forrestry dept they sort of told me they had given up on my village. i'm glad that sentiment didn't last.

but my rant is over and i've got to start actually doing things. have an excellent.

as i'm sure you can imagine, obama's kind of a big deal in these parts. the man is kind of a big deal everywhere, but here he's really achieved another level of popularity. he is ubiqutious. his face is everywhere here. and i really mean everywhere. people have holographic obama belt buckles. his face stares up at me from the wristwatch of the man sitting next to me on the gelly. his love for michelle is celebrated in tee-shirts of all shapes and sizes. you can get clothes made from fabric with his face printed on it over and over, a banner of obama adoration to be worn on the most special of occasions. even the beloved green tea that people guzzle here like americans and their starbucks comes in obama brand. for a slight price hike, but a small price to pay i'm sure.

and then, of course, there's the song.

ba-rack. obama.

ba-rack. obama.

there aren't really any other lyrics. but it really is a song here, and we sing it to baby Omar all the time. then we clap his little hands together for him and he laughs.

and of course, being an american, i'm clearly on speaking terms with him. i think some people even suspect i have his mobile number and am keeping to selfishly secret for some unfathomable reason. i have actually had arguments with people where they acccused me of lying when i said i didn't know him.

"but you work for the government. you have met him at least."

"no. my country is very big. many people work for the government. he can not meet them all."

"yes, but you work for him. he is your president. you know him"

and so on. it's not everyone, but i have been asked to greet him more times than i can count. now i just say okay, knowing full well that if i ever do get the chance to meet one of the most popular political leaders of our time i will be greeting him on behalf of an entire west african nation.

and of course i expect this to happen immediately after my return to the u.s., where i will fly into d.c. through an arch made of balloons with a floating banner that welcomes me personally back.

because that's what happens when you arrive in america.

we should be flattered, really, that our country has been percieved to have such a great and welcoming reputation. it's difficult to explain to people that america is great, and there are many opportunites there, but we also have many problems. that we have poor and even homeless people. and our doctors can't cure everything. that not everyone has a mansion and 3 cars and a fat white wife. and that the incredible culuture they have here, where everyone knows everyone, and welcomes strangers as you would a long-lost friend, is often lost in the day-to-day stresses that make up american life. i wish i could instill the friendliness and sense of community that comes so naturally to everyone here to the more uptight, isolated, distrusting nature that comes to americans almost by necessity. i wish we were a little less of an individualist culture, less reluctant to celebrate things we have in common, things that make us feel united, instead of competing through status symbols and constant one-upmanship. i'm not saying gambian culture is perfect, i'm not saying any culture is perfect. i'm just saying we could learn from them, just as they can learn from us.

but mostly i wish some one would greet obama for me because my host brother was playing with my cellphone the other night and deleted his number. i know he's waiting for my call.

and not just because things are going really well there. which they are. it's been a really good few weeks, and when it came time to come back here (i'm doing some oyster work) i was really dragging my feet about leaving. but leave i did. and it's nice to be here, with a fan on, sitting in a chair that has a back and a cushion, with the feel of cool tile on my feet. but i think the real reason it's so nice to be here is because the process of getting here was comically drawn-out and convoluted. i'll try and be concise, but get comfy, cuz that's not exactly my style...

i set out from home later than i intended, which was my first mistake because it was sunday and nobody likes to do anything on sunday (or friday, of course). but i was helping with the laundry and lost track of time, and then was heavily pressured to stay for lunch, which typically happens around 3 here. after lunch, i headed to drop off some seeds at a friend's compound. she was out, which was fortunate because she missed seeing me spill my bag of Moringa seeds all over the sand. luckily, i managed to corral some kids to help me collect them. then one of her sisters asked me to save her a seat on the gelly (the typical transport method, a van that is stuffed to the brim with people, luggage, and various other items such as chickens, gas cans, buckets of fish, photos of the gelly driver and the gelly,etc) so i went to the carpark and boarded the waiting gelly, taking care to save a seat for my friend. in due time (we'll say 30-45 minutes) enough people came and after some shouting and searching for the driver and apprentice, we set off, stopping at my friend's compound (it's by the one road running through my village), horn blaring, as she calmly strolled over and boarded. yes, the driver honked the horn the whole time. no, it did not quicken her pace. her 2 year old daughter chased the gelly crying as we rolled slowly away, with one last horn blast for emphasis.

and then my water bottle leaked through my bag and all over my pants. yes, it was unpleasant, but i am fortunate to be in such a climate that it dries rather quickly.and i managed to extract my mobile and wallet from the bag so my documents were safe. the rest of the trip was uneventful.

so i arrived at the first carpark and boarded yet another gelly to continue my journey, trying to ignore the wet spot on my leg and the confused glances it invited. this gelly also filled up slowly (who wants to go anywhere sunday afternoon?), but luckily i had a book with me, which served the dual purpose of giving me something to do and giving me an excuse not to talk to the man sitting next to me, who immediately upon taking his seat asked me which country i was from and if i was married. as we rolled along, two men in the front of the gelly started having a conversation about how we should all live like the prophet and how Allah is the only way, but only one felt that way. i suppose their "argument" was really about religious freedom, but it was a lot of back-and-forth and clearly no conclusion was going to be reached. everyone in the car noticed, we were all exchanging looks and chuckling to ourselves, except for one older man who listened quietly for about 10 minutes, and then could no longer restrain himself. he began yelling at the two men in the front, saying that they were distracting the driver, which they may have been. however, he did not seem happy with their response (silent), so he got to his feet and yelled more and more. apparently he used to drive for the embassy in Dakar for 22 years. and he doesn't want to hear anyone's thoughts on Allah. at this point, other passengers were trying to reason with him, which caused him to lash out at them, which made him even angrier. at all times about 3 people were standing and shouting at each other, ostensibly over how this man didn't want anyone to distract the driver. those of us who weren't yelling were laughing, but more in the "this is really uncomfortable and i'm nervous" sort of way. and one lady in front of me was recording the angry man's impassioned tirade on her cellphone. but i guess the still-shouting man had a point, because the driver was indeed distracted, and we got a flat tire. so we pulled over and moved the shouting match to the road side, with one very angry "i told you so" addressing the whole group. somehow everyone calmed themselves by the time the tire was changed (maybe 30 minutes) and we all piled back in, ready to get going. lesson learned?

no.

they started fighting again. and this time, they tried to bring me into it. "let's ask our white sister here" they would say, and the whole gelly would look at me, and fall silent. and i would tell them in english and mandinka that i wasn't going to comment on their arguments. they wanted me to take sides on religious freedom. and then on who was responsible for environmental degradtion. and then, to ice the cake, the man sitting next to me asked if i had a boyfriend, and if i could tell him my pet name for him. i have never been so happy to get out of a car.

but now i am here, and ready to get to work. ready to forget that in a few days time i'll be back on the road. ready to believe that it was a fluke and that many people willing to argue for that long will never be on the same gelly with me also present, and that if this happens again it will be an hour ride, not 2 and a half. ready for action.

wrap it up is something i've been saying a lot lately, at least in my head. we're headed into our last day of all-vol, a conference where all the volunteers in the country get together and we have a big meeting where we talk about...policy. and policy. and policy. and sometimes people complain. about policy. it's a long, painful, nessecary process that can not be avoided but is absolutely exhausting. exhausting.

but it's the last day! by this afternoon, whether they're done or not, they have to wrap it up!! and then i'm finally free to go home for the first time in more than 2 weeks. actually, i'm going to Abuko nature reserve to help make a firebreak tomorrow-but after that i'm going home! it's more than time. i think my school probably thinks i've left the country. they had spring break for one of the weeks i was gone, so it won't seem AS long to them. but i want to make sure they're going full-tilt on their tree nursery. i'm one of the regional coordinators for the all-school tree nursery competition, so i have to work extra hard to make sure my school isn't slacking. i'm also trying to get them to plant more native species instead of invasives, and any tree other than a fruit trees, but even fruit trees absorb carbon so i can't complain.

and i just need to readjust to village life. there's been a lot of toilets, electricity, reliable phone service, and delicious western food in my life lately (they actually have Nutella here) and i'm headed back to rice, a pit, and flashlights. but i'm not really complaining. i'm just psyched to see my host family and ride my bike again. also, tourist season is winding down so i think i will be less and less confused with the tourists that come through my village because there's no one to confuse me with around.

this is not to say the last two weeks haven't been worth it. IST taught us some amazing things, and it was great to see everyone from my training group (and everyone in the country). i would have to say the major highlights of in-service training for me were 1) the demonstration glass hive and 2)advanced composting techniques. more on that later, i promise, but i'm offically obsessed. but i have to wrap this up because our transport is here. love ya, mean it.

i thought this lovely picture of the beach was a little more "Gambia" than the old one (me in America making a face). i've spent the better part of the evening watching the internet come and go as i try and upload photos. so enjoy them, because they were quite an effort to get up on the old facebook. i named the album after my favorite Gambian joke. if you ask someone how they are doing, they will say "oh i am just managing." but one day (at a police checkpoint, of all places) the police officer, when he heard that we were managing, said "i guess we are all managers, because we are all managing." it made me giggle.

the festival was pretty great, some of MY favorite acts from around the region showed up. and the bumster-boss lady population was through the roof, which always makes for some excellent people-watching. it was some late nights though, and i'm glad it won't be back for a year. i need more sleep than that lifestyle requires.

but anyways, things are good here. we've had some in-service training going on, where we learn more intensive skills like bee-keeping (i've already got most of that covered, but it's nice to hear from someone other than my counterpart, i suppose) and tree-grafting. today we practiced on real trees. i don't know how well i did, but i do know that grafting trees feels like playing god. but you need a really, really sharp knife. we're also going to be doing some advanced composting (yay) and other gardening stuff. i'm pretty psyched to get back to site, of course. they keep giving us all these good ideas but i have to wait another week at least until i get back to try them. ay yi yi. in-service training itself is pretty exhausting, but it has been nice to see other volunteers for awhile. there's just something about being with someone who knows what it's like to be toubab-ed on daily basis that's just...therapeutic. also we've some really intense discussions about sustainability. it's something that comes up all the time here, and it's amazing how a small group of people working towards the same cause can have so many different opinions. but it's really important for us to keep talking about it, to keep that dialogue open, because otherwise who knows what we'd wind up doing. it reminds you why you're here and makes you re-think what you've done so far and what you want to do again. we've also been talking a lot about food security, which i'm sure you can imagine is a huge issue here. it goes really to every aspect of life here, you can't look at one issue plaguing this place without tracing it back to food security. so i guess it's good we're trying to focus more on that now.

speaking of food security, apparently it's socially acceptable now to post things on your blog that you want people to send you in care packages. i had no idea this was okay, but when in rome, you write your wishlist on your blog.

granola/luna/protein bars

peanut butter m&ms (the candy-coating keeps them from melting)

plain m&ms are also appreciated :)

TRAIL MIX!!

DRIED FRUIT!!!

sour punch straws ( i loove the strawberry ones)

any seeds you want to see if they can grow in a hot climate (apparently this is ok)

fun mix cds (or cds in general)

LOVE

this is going to sound a little silly, but please remove all excess packaging (otherwise i have to deal with where to put my plastic waste, which is not easy) but put everything in ziplock bags. counter-intuitive, i know. but while i am okay with no excess wrappings, the rats and bugs that live both in the Peace Corps mailroom and the Banjul post office have other ideas. and they are not to be trifled with. anyways, don't worry about this list too much because if you take the time to send me a package i'll be so grateful to you that it could probably be a dirty sock and some sugar packets and i'd still be psyched. and i have a pretty barren backyard right now (baby monkey's a digger and chewer of most things green) but rainy seasons a'comin and i'd like to get some stuff planted out there so if you've got some seeds lying around and you've ever wondered how they would grow in africa, apparently there's no overregulation of what you can plant here. i know the volunteer before me tried for a pecan tree and it was too hot, but that's only the beginning. people have grown pomegrante here before, and pineapple (yummy) and all kinds of things. so send 'em on if you wanna know and i'll give you a full report. because my tomatoes and basil are doing great, but i'm looking to expand to other gardening endeavors.

and trees! i got so many seeds today, i can't wait to get some trees in the ground.

anyways, i'm around the internet for a hot minute, so i'll probably post again soon. check hourly!

or maybe every few days.

you would think that being saved from the life of a typical Gambian cat-the beatings, the parasites, the hunger-would make him grateful. but no. despite the steady diet of fish and powder milk (and cheese if he's been particularly sweet lately), despite the petting, the protective flea collar, the baths, and the love, despite the fact that he has a perfect life, he still insists on waking me up at 5am. every morning. this is a new trend. he used to sleep through the night (and most of the day). but i guess since it's hot hot hot his nap schedule got rearranged and now "be really obnoxious and cry loudly until casey lets me out" happens from 5 until5:30 every morning, instead of the middle of the day when it used to happen. and yes, he has been reminded that he was adopted. it didn't help.

otherwise things have been pretty good. my cold is little more than a pesky cough now, and it actually has been cooler these last few days. i can breathe even at the hottest part of the day (through my mouth, but i'm still breathing). we're all getting geared up for the big festival this weekend, i'm actually getting excited. there's going to be so much music. i love watching the Senegalese dancers that are going to be coming, as well. they're just impressive people. i'm on the "hospitality" committee, which basically means they want me to keep the tourists attending happy. i think it should be a pretty manageable job, i just hope there are no drunken scenes. the soldiers are coming to help control the crowd, but i don't know how they will feel about disciplining tourists. which is where i come on. i'll use some of my american moxy to keep them in line. or just tell the soldiers not to worry, they're people just like the rest of us. last year the soldiers locked up all the overly intoxicated rastas, cut off their dreads, and made them work in their garden. i don't think they're allowed to go that far this year, but i hope the boys are thinking of their dreads and behave.

after the festival i'm headed back up north for a girl's leadership camp. it's pretty exciting. i can't wait to see girls from all over the country working together. it even involves a "bridge-building" activity. who doesn't love a well-placed metaphor? i'm doing the icebreakers, which is in my opinion the most important part. just kidding. but i think it could be the most fun. the girls are at a really fun age, so hopefully nobody will be too shy and we'll be able to get them to bond. i think they're all going to love it. after a week together, how could they not?

so i'm off to search for lunch

against my best efforts (sunscreen, sleeves, hats, avoiding the sun) i am a toasty brown (at least for me, being so fair-skinned). people in my village joke that soon i will look like one of them, and be a lovely chocolate color. i'm not sure about that. i'm still holding back.also, due to the culture here (lenient muslim, i suppose) i am actually only tan from my mid-calves down, on my arms, and my face. the rest of me never sees the sun.

international women's day went reasonably well, we actually had to do our activities the day after because monday was commonwealth day also, which included traditional dress, girls with candy braided into their hair, and a parade. the parade went to the military camp, where the commander treated us to a speech about student-on-teacher violence and teenage pregnancy. in celebration of the commonwealth, i guess. it was a great day though, and there was dancing in the afternoon. "traditional dancing" here is fun to watch and imitate, but it's a little awkward because everyone wants to see what the white girl is going to do. yeesh. it's worth it, though, to see what everyone else does. they get really into it. i love how they try and one-up each other. it's all a dance-off.

today i went to most of the upper school classes to talk about a tree nursery competition the school is participating in. the teacher i am working with is a little overenthusiastic (a problem i prefer to the alternative) and is having trouble letting the students take control of the nursery. he really wants to win, i guess. i just want to make sure the students learn how to raise trees. i really like this competition because it gives me lots of chances to talk about how important trees are, something you can't do enough here. as it gets hotter, there are more and more bush fires in my area. we passed 4 on the way here. it's such a sad site, and there's no real fire department to take care of it. people lose their farms and homes all the time.

the solution is firebreaks, but people are reluctant to build those, and often do not get around to it until later in the hot season. i suppose bush fires have been going on so long here they are almost viewed as inevitable, the way people see floods and tornados. hopefully they can be educated and encouraged otherwise. it's a long process. i know people know about firebreaks, but getting them to make them is another story.

so i am busy busy, when i'm not working i'm sitting around complaining about how hot it is. it's getting hotter, and i feel completely justified in complaining simply because i'm doing it with gambians. if the host country nationals say it's too hot, it's too hot. it's nice to commiserate. my mandinka is far from advanced, but my weather-based complaints are excellent.

while we're on the topic, i've been making a list of things i thought needed to be refridgerated before i came here. here's a brief version

1)eggs (cooked or raw)

2)milk

3)mayonaise

4)yogurt/cheese

5)fish

6)butter

7)leftover food from meals

i can't believe people here don't have all sorts of bacterial infections. or maybe they do...

anyways, i have some emails to reply to. i've hooked up with this NGO that does some really great work, but the majority of people there have computers and want me to be keeping in touch with them via email. it's not an option for me, so i have to cram before each of our meetings. my brain is a little fried, but at least they get stuff done.

fo waati do (till another time)

casey

but fellas, listen close.

march 8th (monday)is international women's day. it even has it's own website:

http://www.internationalwomensday.com/. it's a little heavy.

i am planning on going to the basic cycle school and doing some activities with the girls there. then i want to go to the skills center and repeat. but i'm on the hunt for activities to do with them, if you know of any good ones, please call/email/facebook me with suggestions! i'm working with a student who is staying in my village, and the two of us want to really bring home the point that women can work and have a family, and of course that education is the key to everything. so let me know if you have any ideas!

right now we are going to have a discussion on setting goals and doing an activity called "pat on the back," where everyone stands in a circle and writes something nice about the person in front of them on their back. it's cute. but it's not enough.

otherwise, things here are good. it's been hot hot hot but not so bad today.